The Orange Relationship
by IlovesMesomeGlee
Summary: Through his grandson, David Karofsky discovers that lost love can be regained in numerous ways. Rated T. Kurtofsky with Quinn. Maybe an OC or two.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: HEY EVERYBODY!**

 **You know I love to come up with different story ideas. And this one wouldn't leave me! So I have to share it with you! LOL!**

 **In this story we see David Karofsky as a grandfather. But his grandson goes through a crisis and we see our big hero go through hell! Now, this is a war story. If that bothers, you've been warned.**

 **ENJOY! And please review. Please be kind. Your reviews are INCREDIBLE! HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3!**

The Orange Relationship

Chapter 1

.

"Hey Karofsky!"

He set the pig clamp down on the ground and groaned from the pain in his lower back.

"What?!"

"Isn't that your boy?"

That was a phrase David Karofsky hadn't heard in a long time. A long time indeed. It couldn't have made sense. And yet, as he lifted his sixty-two year old eyes towards the road, he could've sworn he saw something familiar. Or someone. And yet, as he squinted into the mid-morning sunshine, he saw a familiar sight – a boy, an ANGRY boy was marching down the road.

That wasn't uncommon.

"Yeah? What of it?" Dave snarled. "So, it's my grandson. Big deal."

"Looks pissed."

Dave stopped. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wasn't sure if he should finish getting the pigs out of the barn, work on the damn clutch on the truck, or check on his grandson. Seems like the answer had been taken away from him. Right at that moment, he heard his grandson's voice.

 _"GRANDPA!"_

The others started laughing a little and left. Of course, the elder Karofsky didn't appreciate that very much, but it was a form of respect. So, he took it.

Meanwhile, the kid, who couldn't have been much older than eighteen now, was marching up to him. He looked incredibly upset.

And furious.

And an angry Karofsky boy is a bad thing. Dave blinked the memories of his past away as he watched his grandson, David Jr., walk up to him.

"I need to talk to you." David Jr. said as he approached.

"I've got work to do."

"Well…do you need any help?"

Dave looked at him. He saw the exasperated look on his face, the pained expression in those eyes, the mouth that desperately wanted to form the words that caused him so, so much grief. And yet, they didn't. So, the elder Karofsky knew he wasn't getting off the hook.

"Suit yourself, boy. Get that compost."

Dave Jr. reached down and grabbed a bucket and followed the older, hobbling grandfather out onto the barnyard. The other farmhands had disappeared and there was a sneaking suspicion that both were grateful for this. Meanwhile, Dave Jr. was almost in tears. For something to really get to him this badly, it had to be something bad. Really bad. Dave Sr. braced for the worst.

"What's wrong?"

The grandson plopped on the porch. Soon, the grandpa joined him and sat down with a loud grunt. He stopped counting the areas on his body that hurt and turned to face the kid.

"Something happened."

"Well, I gathered that kid, but you're gonna have to…" And when Dave Sr. looked at him, he realized he'd need to take a different tactic. He reached for his shoe and began poking at the accumulated dirt on the heel. "Does your mom know you're here?"

"Don't know. Don't care." Dave Sr. looked at him. "Yeah, probably." Grandpa remained silent. "I told her something that was very hard to do. And now she hates me."

"I doubt that very-"

"I'm gay and I have a boyfriend."

And there it was. No hesitation, no softening the blow, no anything. Dave Sr. looked over at him with that typical Grandpa critical eye but said nothing.

"And now," Dave Jr. added, "you probably hate me too."

"Not at all."

"You don't?"

"Nope." He answered, lifting his other foot across his knee to work on that shoe. "Why didn't you do it sooner?"

"Wasn't ready." And then, Dave Jr. noticed something. "You're not really grossed out of anything like I thought you would be."

Immediately, Grandpa looked away. He could see well enough into the barnyard that some of the guys were doing menial tasks. And since they seemed to be giving the two Karofskys some space, which was appreciated. Maybe he even saw things out in the field beyond that didn't make sense.

"Hand me that water, boy."

Dave Jr. silently grabbed it and handed it over. And as he drank, the grandson looked over at the scars on his grandfather's arms, the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and even some kind of military tattoo on his forearm. He'd wondered why his grandfather seemed to like him so much and let him speak. Then again, many veterans have seen it all and don't want to waste any time in life.

Finally, the elder Karofsky lowered the bottle, panting a little. After a quick wipe of his brow, he shifted a little in his seat, groaning some in pain.

"It sucks getting old, kid."

Despite the crude joke, Dave Jr. chuckled a little. "Looks like it." And as he kept looking at him, Dave Sr. knew what he had to say.

"You want a beer?"

"Grandpa! I can't!"

"Oh. That's right. Well, then, get comfortable. I'm going to tell you something and you're gonna listen. And that's all there is to it, right boy?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"OK." And David Alan Karofsky leaned on his left elbow, closer to his grandson. "This will be hard for me to tell, but something tells me you need to hear it."

And as they settled further into the front porch of the gaudy farmhouse, the grandson got a good education in just how cruel life and war can be.

"I don't think I ever told you the story of when I fell in love in Nam, did I?" Dave Jr. shook his head. "Oh good. Then this will REALLY be something you can probably relate to." And then, he rubbed a scar on his face that ran from his temple, across his cheek, and even on his lips. He stopped suddenly, leaned in conspiratorially and said, "His name was Kurt Hummel."

Dave Jr. didn't even try to stop his mouth opening.

.

 **AN: So, do you guys want me to continue this? Do ypu want to read more? I'm not sure. If I get a good response I might continue? Maybe? :)**

 **If you have questions let me know. I'll try my best to answer what I can. I hope you guys love it! :) If you like it, I'll TRY to update as much as I can. :)**

 **Have a Nice Day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hello Everyone! :)**

 **After an unexpected response to this story I decided to continue. :)**

 **Thank you to those who reviewed wanting more!**

 **Thank you to the three followers and favorite.**

 **I'm truly touched you guys want to read more.**

 **OK- On to the story, we delve into Dave's past here. Dave is eighteen here. Its not voilent... Yet. But that will change soon.**

 **Its a roller coaster ride of emotions!**

 **Quinn is introduced here. So is Kurt.**

 **All I'll say on that. I dont wanna give TOO much away.**

 **If you have questions, let me know.**

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

 **Chapter 2**

He'd heard many things about it. He heard it was a life a million miles away. And in many ways it was. But Dave was so unprepared for what greeted him in San Francisco in 1973. It wasn't just a different world – it was a different life!

Dave had never seen so many hippies in one place. The famous Haight-Ashbury district showcased people in long clothes and even longer hair. Tie-dyed shirts and people openly dropping acid. It was the craziest city to Dave and he couldn't fathom why people would build a city on top of so many hills!

And the fags. Oh, he knew about them, of course. And it wasn't until years later that he would find out that that was a bad word. But they often spilled out of clubs or shops onto the street, openly putting arms around each other and even kissing. In public! He tried to hide his touristy shock but there's only so much a young guy can do.

Duffel bag over his shoulder, he took a trolley to the army recruiting office and signed in. And then, so, so many medical examinations and tests and reflex tests and eye tests and just too many things to deal with. And yet, he took it all in stride. After all, Dave was doing something to save the world from communism…right?

So when he was finished with the army office, he got his shipping papers – he would be sent to Saigon in two days. Two days. Two whole days in a city where nothing made sense and everything was new. He was offered a place to stay at the recruiting office. But since he was being taken a world away to stay with the army, he wanted to get away as much as he could. Something told him he'd get sick of army accommodations real quick.

And he was right.

Dave walked towards a pay phone. He had to tell his best friend whatever he could about this crazy city. He also wanted to say goodbye when he was shipped to this strange country called Viet Nam. Dave put the nickel in the slot and heard it dial.

"Hello?" the young feminine voice responded.

"Hey, Quinn."

"Dave! So do you have a joint in your hand yet?"

"Oh, ha, ha, funny woman." She giggled. "The place isn't as groovy as people said it would be."

"Why not?" Quinn asked. She sounded like she was reaching for something.

"It's just…weird."

"Oh, that's just you, Dave."

"Ha ha, funny woman."

"You need a new line."

Dave didn't respond. A seagull flew nearby. He'd never seen one in person before.

"So," Quinn began with a suddenly different tone, "when do you leave?"

"The day after tomorrow."

"Oh…well, I guess that doesn't give me much time."

"Time for what?"

"Time," Quinn began, _STILL_ sounding like she was trying to grab something from a cupboard or something, "to see you off, stupid."

"Quinn, you don't…what are you doing?"

"Packing."

"Packing?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because my best friend is going to a dumb war in a dumb country that I've never heard of before and my dumb friend enlisted in the army to help his dumb country instead of going off to college where at least she'd know he was safe and leave his _BEST_ friend all alone with no one to protect her from all these dumb men who annoy her and where the hell is my sweater? Or do I want to pack-?"

"Quinn! Shut it." She giggled. "You don't have to come."

"Too late."

She hung up. Dave looked at the receiver and then placed the receiver back in its cradle. He wouldn't allow himself to smile about this. Instead, he opened the door to the phone booth and stepped out into the sunshine. He looked up – the seagull was gone.

.

"Karofsky?"

Dave immediately sat up. He was stretched out on his little bunk in the army recruiting office.

"Yes?"

"You have a visitor."

Completely baffled, he stood up. But then when that happened, he pretty much figured out who the visitor was. It didn't take very much to figure it out when he saw nearly every guy in the facility staring into the waiting room. And when he walked in, he immediately groaned.

"Daveeeeeeey!"

Quinn ran up to him and put her arms around his neck. He didn't even have time to roll his eyes, but he did hear many men groan around him in envy. Dave pulled her arms off him.

"I told you, you didn't have to come." He said, leading her away from the other guys and their leering eyes. "Why are you-?"

"Oh shut up, Daveeeeey!"

He gritted his teeth and growled, "Stop calling me that."

"NO!"

She sprinted out of the office and Dave kind of tried to keep up. But there was a tiny part of him that loved the attention. After all, he was a young man who had a groovy chick running up to him. No matter who you are, that always feels good. So, for the first time since he arrived in San Francisco, Dave let himself smile.

They took the cable car and then another trolley and went window shopping and stopped for lunch and took another cable car and Quinn nearly bought some pot and Dave stopped her and Quinn snatched Dave's hand and ran away and brought life into their lives. You'd think there wasn't a war a half a world away.

By sunset, they were exhausted but having the time of their lives. Dave was reading a poster about a new band called 'Pink Floyd' when Quinn came up to him.

"Whatcha reading?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Oh. Well, let's go."

"Now where?"

"Oh, shut up. There's one place I want to go that I've always wanted to."

"Where? Golden Gate? Alcatraz Prison?"

"Noooooo!"

"Oh God, Quinn. Where now?!"

"Just come on!"

Dave let his bulky body be dragged by this waif blonde and off they went again. But this destination came as a total surprise to Dave.

It was just an ordinary park bench.

They sat down and Quinn asked Dave to buy her a malted. He had just sat down and now was being asked to get back up again. He growled. She smiled. He got up and got her the shake. When he returned, she had a totally different expression on her face. He silently handed her the malted and sat down beside her.

Dave looked up. Evening seagulls from the Bay had begun to come inland and Quinn found herself lifting her head. He couldn't imagine a more beautiful sight than a gorgeous sunset with beautiful birds in a dream-like city. And that's when he felt her head fall on his shoulder.

He looked down and her entire demeanor changed. Quinn's shoulder's slumped a little and the malted threatened to melt and spill on her hand. And when Dave started to see it shake in her hand, he slowly took it away and set it on the other side of him. He put his arm around her and they settled there, amongst the sounds of gulls and tourists and trolley bells. A slightly cool breeze blew by, wafting the warm aromas of jasmine and possibly marijuana and Dave closed his eyes.

"You better come back."

His eyes shot open. "Of course, I'll come back."

She cradled his belly. "If you don't come back, I'll have to fly over there and kill you myself."

Dave chuckled. "I'm coming back, Quinn."

"I'm not stupid, Dave. It's…war."

He sighed. "I know."

"Just…just write. A lot. Whenever you can."

"Didn't I tell you?"

Quinn sat up a little, looking him in the eye. "What?"

Dave grinned at her. "I've already started one."

She smiled and put her head back on his chest. An elderly couple walked by, holding hands. Quinn and Dave watched them. The couple seemed so into each other and they were even smiling. All too soon, they passed the young, suddenly troubled couple on the park bench and Quinn sighed.

"I hope that's us someday."

"It will be. It will."

A long moment passed and Quinn suddenly sat up. "I have to go."

"What? Why?"

"Dave, you leave in the morning. And…" she wiped her eye. "I don't want to say…g-goodbye ag-again."

"Me neither."

They stared at each other, watching the worry in their eyes, the sudden frown lines on their faces.

"I wish," Quinn whispered, "the sun didn't have to come up tomorrow."

"Oh God, me too!"

Dave grabbed and held on tight. Quinn burst into tears. And the two best friends held each other in an ordinary park during an ordinary night in an otherwise ordinary city. And when they separated, Dave hated when he saw her blonde hair getting smaller and smaller in the distance. And when he couldn't see her anymore, he tapped his hands on his knees and walked off towards the army recruiting office.

.

The next morning, Dave awoke to the sound of guys moving all around him. This would be his life for who knows how long and he knew to get used to it. He immediately grabbed his belongings and went off to the commissary. And when that was taken care of, he walked out into the parking lot.

There waiting was an unmarked bus the size of a Greyhound. It would be his home until he'd reach the base that would put him on a plane to his future. He wasn't interested in making friends with anyone and simply got on the bus.

Minutes passed. One by one, more guys showed up and got in seats. He found himself staring at the American flag, watching it wave in the gentle breeze. He hoped he was making the right decision. He hoped he'd come home. Hell, he just hoped.

"Hi!"

Dave turned and saw an incredibly cute and smiling guy suddenly sitting next to him. A hand was extended and Dave just stared at it like he didn't know what to do. So, the guy simply shrugged and dropped his hand.

"I'm gonna miss San Francisco. I wish I could've seen more of the city." The guy said. Dave, of course, said nothing, staring straight ahead, hoping the guy would simply shut the hell up. Of course, he didn't. "You know, when I come back, I would hope that we'll have some scratch to go looking around the city some. I sure as hell don't wanna go back to Ohio any time soon. I mean, would you?"

Dave didn't say anything. The last thing he wanted anyone to know was that he was from the same state as this chatty-cathy was.

"Well," the guy shifted his bundle under his seat, "I'm gonna live in New York someday. Picture it," the guy said, putting up his hands like a marquee, "Kurt Hummel: The Star." Dave blinked. "Oh! Sorry. Name's Kurt."

"Dave."

"So, you speak!"

"Um, yeah."

"Well, that's good. I'd hate to be even more nervous about going to this stupid place we're going to and not have SOMEBODY to talk to. I mean, my dad was proud of me being drafted and all. Did you get drafted?"

"No." Dave replied, wishing he could switch seats.

"No?! You mean, you signed up…voluntarily?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I dunno. It seemed like the right thing to do."

"Not me. I'm gonna be on Broadway. I'm gonna be a famous singer one day. Just you wait. You'll see my name in lights. Kurt. Hummel!"

Dave nearly groaned. It was going to be a long bus ride.

.

 **AN: Well aren't we off to a good start for our boys? Lol :)**

 **I'm glad you guys wanted more! :) if you liked it, please review. Please be kind. Thank you! I'll post more as soon as I can. Have a Nice Day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: HI EVERYBODY!**

 **Thank you so much for liking, favoriting, following, and reviewing this story! I've worked hard on it and I'm so happy with the results! X3 :)**

 **A reviewer has questioned the historical and social accuracy of this story so far. For example, there was no draft in 1973. And that is correct – for the most part.**

 **As this story evolves, answers to questions like this, as well as how gays were treated back then, will be brought up. I only ask for your patience and please keep the reviews coming. Thank you!**

 **The song is "Aquarius" from the musical "Hair". I don't own it.**

 **So, ENJOY! And as always, please leave kind reviews! LOL! X3- HAVE A NICE DAY!**

 **ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3!**

 **Chapter 3**

In between watching the sun rise further in the sky along the Golden Gate and whenever the damn bus driver would pop the clutch, Dave tried his best to tune this Kurt guy out. It didn't work, of course. Kurt just had a way of getting under your skin. But as the cool, blue, seemingly endless ocean came into better view, it seemed like everyone was entranced. It was just so amazingly beautiful…

Then, they crossed the bridge and Kurt resumed talking. And talking. And talking. Dave partially heard a few things here and there. Apparently this was Kurt's first time out of Ohio and his dad was a car mechanic. But as Dave watched him out of the corner of his eye, there seemed something so, so familiar about the kid. He didn't put his finger on it until much later, but that's neither here nor there.

Suddenly, there was a silence in the 'conversation'.

"W-what?" Dave asked, turning to him.

"I said," Kurt said with politeness, "what are you doing when this is all over?"

"I dunno. Probably going home and living a nice, quiet life." And then, he turned his head away, watching downtown Oakland come into view. "Alone."

"Alone?!"

Others on the bus turned at this outburst but didn't say or do anything.

"Yes, alone."

"Why?"

"Seems better. For me."

Kurt's eyes narrowed for just a bit. And then, he shrugged. "Well, at least you will be happy…right?" Dave didn't answer. "And I'm confident that life will give you what you want."

Dave blinked. Twice. Then, he turned to the strange, talkative boy who was suddenly engrossed in some magazine. There was a strange kind of comfort in Kurt's words and Dave seemed like he'd never heard this spoken so openly, so honestly before.

Some more time passed in surprising silence. Dave knew they were nearing their destination – an airport that would take them to Fort Shafter in Honolulu. He'd never ridden in an airplane before and wasn't about to get even more nervous than flying over an ocean.

Suddenly, Kurt laughed. Dave turned and saw that Kurt was reading 'Beetle Bailey'.

"How appropriate!" Kurt exclaimed. "Look, Dave!" Dave looked at the cartoon. It was a silly one panel image of a soldier struggling to load his weapon correctly and the drill sergeant yelling at him. "That'll be me!" And when this kid, this odd kid from Ohio laughed, Dave just stared at him in wonder. Kurt sounded like he was singing. Out of embarrassment, Kurt covered his mouth and apologized. But for the rest of the short bus ride, Dave would sneak peeks at this totally bizarre kid.

.

The bus came to stop. Everybody disembarked. They were told where to go and what to do and when to do it. Officers ordered them to undergo this screening and this gateway and soon after that, Dave was ahead of nearly everyone from the bus. He wanted to do anything he could to just have some peace and quiet when he sat on the bench of the C-130 cargo plane.

But all too soon, guys came in and they were hip to hip. Boots and saddles. Dave had absolutely no escape from anyone as the engines roared all around him.

He thought about loosening his collar a little. His gear bag had suddenly become very heavy and his feet nervously bounced on the floor. For _THIS_ to be his very first plane ride, he was in for a rude awakening.

"Well, hello!"

Dave knew that voice. He closed his eyes and slowly turned towards him, knowing there was absolutely no escape. Right beside him, Kurt Hummel just beamed at him. "I thought that was you!"

As if the gods were against him, the plane suddenly vibrated and began taxiing to the runway. Dave's eyes bulged for just a second. Others seemed to be a little nervous too. And yet, this Kurt guy kept rattling on and on!

"I can't wait to get to Hawaii. I've heard it's beautiful. What do you want to do when you arrive? I mean, besides get on base."

"Idunno." Dave quickly replied.

"Well, I for one want to visit the commissary and get cleaned up. And then I just want to walk on the beach."

"Yeah."

"And after that I'm not sure. Did you know they actually have passes so you can get off base?"

The plane straightened on the runway and Dave bit a fingernail.

"Well, whenever I get a pass, I so badly want to see Mauna Loa. Did you know that's a live volcano?"

"N-no."

"Well, it is. My dad said-"

"Jesus Christ, Kurt! Do you ever shut up?!"

Kurt stopped. Dave glared. And the C-130 cargo plane took off at high speed! Dave flipped his head towards the front and closed his eyes. The rumble below them intensified and Kurt looked hurt. To Dave, it was as if the entire plane was coming apart and he couldn't do anything to stop it. With gritted teeth, he clung to his backpack and hung on for dear life!

Suddenly, his belly flipped a little and the plane was airborne. After at least a minute, the temperature cooled dramatically and they were on their way to Hawaii. Dave felt like he could finally breathe. He braved opening his eyes and found a surprising amount of silence all around him, despite the roar from the engines. He wiped his brow and almost smiled in relief.

But that's when he looked over and saw the hurt, almost scared expression on Kurt's face. Guilt smashed his senses and he knew he had to make things right.

"Sorry. I've never…flown before." Dave yelled above the loud din.

"Me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You…handled it better than I did. I…" Dave dipped his head a little. "I really am sorry. But I was nervous. Still am, a little."

"And I talk too much," Kurt said, with a hint of a smile, "when I get nervous."

And for the very first time, Dave smiled at him and was rewarded with a smile back.

"And I was listening to you, Kurt. I was just…"

"I know."

And there it was again. That warm smile on Kurt's face. He watched Kurt's eyes drift somewhere down near his backpack or hand or something and then suddenly turn away. Dave thought he did something wrong again and wondered just why it seemed to bother him.

"So, where ya'll from?"

Dave and Kurt turned around to see two young guys behind them. "Ohio."

Kurt stared at Dave in wonder. "I didn't know you were from Ohio too!" Dave just smiled and nodded.

"Well, isn't that just cute. It's an Ohio reunion for you lovebirds."

Kurt looked confused and Dave just looked angry.

"And just," Dave angrily began, "who the hell-?"

"Name's Sean Evans." He proudly said. "And this asshole is Arthur Theodore Abrams."

Dave did absolutely nothing while Kurt kind of nodded to them.

"You know," Dave suddenly began, "you don't have to be such a fuckin'-"

"Sure I do!" Sean interrupted. "That's what I do. That's part of my charm. And besides, my girl back home likes my lippy mouth just fine. Just like I'll bet this momma's boy does for you!"

Dave broiled on the inside but Kurt head him off.

"Gee Sean, you have such a high voice for a lesbian."

Dave dipped his head and laughed a little. And to their surprise, so did Arthur.

"Sorry about this asshole right here." Arthur said. "He's a lost little lamb that needs Mary's tuffet more than his own momma's!"

"Fuck you, Abrams!"

And then to everyone's astonishment, Kurt said, "Your place or mine?!"

Everybody but Abrams laughed hard at this. And Dave just stared at him in wonder as they both turned around to the front, away from them.

"Thanks, Dave. But I can take care of myself."

"I can see that."

And there it was again. Kurt's eyes drifted down to Dave's backpack or hand or something and then he looked away again. Dave ignored it and just kept trying to figure this fellow Ohioan out.

An hour passed. Kurt and Dave simply zoned out in their dark, gloomy world where they wouldn't see the sun for at least another four hours. Dave thought about what Quinn might be doing today. She always liked singing and dancing and thought she'd go down to that annoying club she always liked. He missed her. Oh, how he missed her right now. Shoulder to shoulder with people all around him, David Karofsky never felt so alone.

Out of curiosity, he turned to see Kurt reading a familiar looking yellow card. The mimeographed ink blurred a little, but the print on it was familiar – draft card. Kurt turned and looked at Dave, waving the paper in his hand a little.

"I guess," Kurt said a little sadly, "it's a little late to burn this, huh?" Dave said nothing. "Well, I was never much of a hippie anyway." He shoved the card back in his knapsack and sat back up, sighing. Dave noticed the shift in Kurt and kept his eyes on him. Finally, Kurt looked at him and sadly smiled. They looked at each other in the dark, stuffy environment, noticing this eye twitch or that little lip movement. They were just two scared boys, practically, and they didn't know what would be in their near future. But then, a thought occurred to Dave.

"Wait a minute." Kurt looked more directly at him. "I thought the President-"

"He did." Kurt interrupted. "But the date on this card is December 23, 1972. What a Christmas present."

Dave watched him, a little uncomfortable, but not quite knowing what to do.

"At least you're not alone."

The phrase astonished Kurt _AND_ Dave. But it was Kurt who flashed so quickly to him that the bigger boy was caught off guard. And then, a warm, glowing smile adorned the smaller boy's face and Dave felt like he could breathe a little better.

"Well," Kurt began, "all I know is that when I get home and can forget all of this…war shit, I'll build my life again."

"You already have your life, Kurt."

Again, Kurt was surprised. "Dave! I had no idea you could be so…." He didn't finish. He didn't have to. Instead, they let their bro-like personas take over and they shifted in their seats a little. A bit of turbulence set their teeth on edge and then the plane stabilized. Finally.

"And what about you?" Kurt asked.

"What about me?"

"Is there no one…?"

"Oh. Well, sort of."

"Really?" Kurt asked with a broad smile. "Tell me."

"Nah."

"Oh come onnnnn! You never know! We may never get this…" And then Kurt's smile faded a little. "chance again."

Dave looked down and then right back up. "Alright. Her name's Quinn."

"Quint?"

"No. Quinn."

"Quinn."

"Yeah. Quinn Fabray. She's one of the most beautiful girls I've ever met."

Kurt fondly smiled but said nothing. "She's probably out at that noisy club I hate. I mean, she's so much better than them." Dave fondly looked away. "One time, she was involved with this boy and she thought she was pregnant. When I found out, she was so scared but strong, ya' know? It was so far out. Weeks went by and she hung around me constantly! People thought we were a couple." Dave laughed and Kurt politely smiled back. "And then, a few weeks went by and she got her period. Ever since then, we've been inseparable."

Kurt just stared at him in marvel. And Dave's smile vanished, replaced by a questioning look.

"I'm sorry, Dave. That was just…that was amazing. You're pretty groovy."

"I am, huh?" Dave said, smiling.

"Yeah. You are."

A rock of turbulence thrusted their bodies off their seats for a half a second. Guys around them screamed.

But they didn't.

.

"What the fuck is your problem, Hummel?!"

"Are you _TRYING_ to make me look bad?!"

"You call this a fucking miter?! _DO IT AGAIN!"_

"Why is your sidearm fucked up, Hummel?!"

To say that Kurt was struggling with boot camp was an understatement. The first few days went like this. Never really seeming to do anything right, he fought off the urge to kill and just went with his gut – do better.

Meanwhile, Dave adjusted quite nicely. He found he felt comfortable with the surroundings even when they jarred him from time to time. He didn't like the pre-dawn hours all the time but then, who does? And when he made sure his bed was mitered, foot locker organized, and weapons secured properly, he found he could relax as he did menial tasks.

But his heart went out to the seemingly fragile boy. The others were giving him hell too. He did help him from time to time. And after another week or so, Kurt finally adjusted to this rigid schedule, the hardassed drill sergeant, the boring hours, the surprise inspections, and worst of all, the sheer loneliness.

And yet, there they were – two boys who were about to step into the world of war, being trained in hand-to-hand combat, discipline, some military intelligence, cooperation, and relying on your buddy. Soon, it became apparent that despite Kurt's seeming frailness, he was quite strong.

Dave admired that.

So, one day in mess hall, Dave asked him about what he wanted to do with his Broadway career.

"Huh?" Kurt asked. "Oh. Sorry. What?"

"I asked about what you wanted to do when you get to New York."

Kurt thought for a second, the greasy hash browns dripping off his fork. "I…I don't know."

"You don't? For a guy who sure thought he had-"

"Well, I don't. And I can't think about that right now."

Dave watched him for a second and then dived into his field eggs. Sure they were dry but they're good for you. And there's never enough salt and hot sauce to make them tasty.

Kurt wiped his mouth, lifted his tray and silently walked off.

That evening, Dave was leaving his PT duty and going back to his bunk when he heard a strange sound in the commissary. He came to a stop, recognizing the voice…

 **Then peace will guide the planets**

 **And love will steer the stars**

 **This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius**

 **Age of Aquarius**

Dave peered around the corner and saw Kurt alone, shaving. His shirt was off and his sleek body could barely hold his fatigues up. Dave watched this amazing boy mouth off to lyrics he didn't understand and didn't care about. All he knew was that he couldn't take his eyes off this kid as he bee-bopped to this hippie music. Kurt swiped his razor in tune with the words and Dave licked his lips.

And just like the song, when it reached a fever pitch and threatened to consume his entire being in a thrust of fury, he turned and practically ran away.

And when Dave lied down, he was nearly out of breath. He didn't even fully understand why.

.

 **AN: Did you guys like this? More to come... Stay tuned. :)**

 **Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: HELLO EVERYBODY!**

 **Just because your the best readers on the planet, you get another chapter the following night! :)**

 **Thank you Dawofmorning for reviewing! Thank you to the followers and a HUGE thank you to everyone reading! It means a lot to me.**

 **Here we're back in the present with our favorite Karofsky family. And as the story evolves, we get clues about what happened back in Vietnam.**

 **SO ENJOY!**

 **Please be review. Please be kind.**

 **HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3**

 **Chapter 4**

"And that's all." Dave Sr. said. He puffed out his chin and looked over at his grandson who had a look of wonder on his face. Then, the grandfather looked down at his folded hands and said, "for now."

"You're stopping? Now?!"

"I have to, boy. And you," he strained getting to a standing position, a joint or two cracking, "have to get home."

Dave Jr. frowned and didn't move. Meanwhile, Dave Sr. hobbled and walked crookedly towards his front door. And when his hand was on the screen door's knob, he stopped and looked back at the suddenly stricken kid.

The sun had dropped enough to see that both men were in shadow – a kind of Russian standoff. They were built the same, acted the same, and were both incredibly stubborn. But one thing was clear – there was more to be said in that moment.

"Grandpa?"

"What?"

"Can…can I come in for a little bit?"

"Boy, your mom will be worried about you. You should head home now."

"I don't," Dave Jr. began, turning in place towards this man who he had come to admire in a totally different light, "have…anywhere to go."

The grandfather let go of the screen door. "Anywhere to go?"

"I can't…I can't go back there. At least not tonight."

They stared at each other – one watched the years build on his shoulders while the other bit his nails nervously. A couple of lifetimes ago, Dave Sr. remembered doing that on his first plane ride to Honolulu. It was eerie how they were one and the same person suddenly.

Dave Sr. audibly sighed. "You know you can't run from this, boy."

"I know."

"And you _HAVE_ to go to school tomorrow."

"I know. And I will."

Dave Jr. looked at him hopefully and the elder Dave just stared at him. Finally, the head dropped and he opened the screen door.

"Medium well."

"What?"

"Medium well." Dave Sr. repeated, holding the screen door open. "I like my steaks medium well. And you better not burn it."

He hobbled in quickly followed by a smiling grandson.

Soon, they settled into a strange routine. Dave Jr. thawed steaks under warm water and Dave Sr. peeled potatoes. The elder Karofsky put the record player on and the proud '1812 Overture' blasted in the nearby living room while they worked together in silence. The grandson could've sworn he heard his grandfather say something in Russian but wasn't sure.

When the potatoes were peeled, the grandfather moved onto a stack of carrots and a bottle of Stolichnaya.

"Aparativ?"

"What?" Dave Jr. asked, letting the warm water drip off the steaks.

"Aparativ?"

"I don't… Grandpa, I don't know any Russian or whatever."

"Boy, just set those steaks down and come over here for a minute."

He wiped his hands, threw the rag on the counter and practically trotted to the kitchen table where the elder Karofsky was conducting a little of the 'overture' in the air. Dave Jr. liked what he saw and just watched.

"So…aparativ?"

"Grandpa! I don't-"

"It means having an alcoholic drink before dinner." He placed a shot glass of the clear Stolichnaya vodka in front of the kid. And, of course, his eyes bulged.

"Grandpa! We're not in Russia right now!"

"I know. You're under my roof. And it's a…good thing to share a drink before dinner. This will be your first, right?"

Dave Jr. looked at the alcohol hesitantly. "Y-yeah."

"So!"

A few more seconds went by before Dave Jr. grabbed the shot glass and started to raise it to his lips.

"Nyet, nyet, nyet!" Dave Sr. ordered. The boy came to a halt. "Together!" They raised the glasses and clinked them.

"Skoal!"

"Sk-skoal."

Dave Sr. downed the vodka in one gulp. But the other one wasn't so confident. And after a little urging from his horribly influencing grandfather, Dave Jr. raised the shot glass to his mouth and swallowed.

The look of total shock and disdain on the boy's face sent the old man into hysterics! Coughs erupted in the kitchen and Dave Sr. smiled as he skinned more carrots.

"You'll learn, boy. You'll learn."

Meanwhile, Dave Jr. wasn't sure what had just happened. "How do people drink that stuff?!"

Dave Sr. was still laughing! "Not people. _RUSSIANS_ , boy!"

"I…I need some water or something." He got up and endured more laughter at his expense just as the first of the gorgeous symphonic strings from the neighboring stereo filled the house.

After that, it was an entirely enjoyable evening. Dave Sr. had more shots of vodka and was introduced to the world of iPods. Dave Jr. was forced to listen to the '1812 Overture' four times and found he enjoyed it. They shared stories of news, some politics, and even drunken words of wisdom from the elderly Karofsky. They sang songs in Russian and Dave Jr. realized he'd have to learn more of his heritage. He listened to the harsh language from the other room when he got up and packed his lunch for school the next day. All in all, it was a glorious, warm, masculine time for the two Karofskys to share together.

But one topic had been carefully avoided all evening long – it was the huge elephant in the room. It was the admission that had shocked each of them.

"I nn-neeed," Dave Sr. began, trying to drunkenly stand, "go to… to go to… bed now."

"Alright, grandpa." He smiled up at him as the elderly man wobbled to the staircase. Jr. watched the way he struggled up the first step and then the second step, coming to a stop on the landing.

"About this…" Dave Sr. began. "About this…boy stuff." Dave Jr. carefully watched him. And even in his drunken state, he could see his grandfather's energy waning as the clock neared eleven. "You…you l-love him."

Stunned, Dave Jr. answered. "Yeah. I do."

Dave Sr. put his hand on the banister and pulled himself up the other set of steps. "Good. Good that…. Th-that's good. It…" He coughed and the grandson stood up. "It sure is g-good…t-t-to see you…happy."

Silence…

Then, the old man simply went upstairs. Dave turned towards the stereo and looked at the album of the '1812 Overture'. That's when he knew his boyfriend would love to hear that.

.

"Just remember one word. Orange.

Grandpa."

Dave Sr. dropped the pen near the paper as often is customary when leaving someone a note. He wasn't surprised to be up and out the door before his grandson, but then school often started at least an hour after he did. He'd already begun work on the annoying clutch from the day before and all the other menial tasks of farmwork when his farmhands finally graced him with their presence.

He was out with the pigs when Dave Jr. ran off to school. The only way he knew this was when one of the nosy brat workers told him.

"Hmmmph."

And that was it.

.

When Dave Sr. was transferring a ratchet back to his tool kit, he saw his grandson walking towards him. Apparently, school was over and he didn't even think about looking at his watch. The two stubborn guys worked on various tasks together. And, of course, there was a little competition between the two. They're men, after all.

"Ain't you got homework?"

"No. Did it already."

"When?"

"In study hall."

"Hmm."

That was their only conversation for a while. They worked on this truck or that bin or this shingle or that tire. They bounced from project to project as time went on and Dave Sr.'s farmhands went home. The sun was getting lower in the sky and bellies were starting to rumble. But there was still daylight and there was always work to do.

That's farmlife.

"So, grandpa." Dave Jr. suddenly began, handing him the cordless drill, "what did you mean by that note this morning?" For the briefest of moments, the elder Karofsky stopped and then resumed drilling his half inch screws into the siding of the barn. He didn't say anything and Dave Jr. repeated it.

Again. Nothing. Again. Nothing.

"Grandpa!"

"Boy, there's work to do!"

"But I don't understand-!"

"Well, too bad boy! You live here, you work. We'll talk later. Now, hand me more nails and shut up!"

And that was it.

Just as the sun was setting, Dave Sr. called it quits and even his grandson seemed a little exhausted. They silently walked up the steps of the porch.

"Grab that bushel."

Dave Jr. did just that. "What are these?"

"Beets, cabbage, and onions."

"Oh. So, I'm not crazy. It's just you."

"Shut up, boy."

They entered the house and began the evening much like they did the night before – music, cooking, Stolichnaya, '1812 Overture', and iPods. Grandpa was amazed at how well the boy cut beets for that evening's borscht and some leftover steak would go well with it. The aparativ (and the several more that followed) and the meal went splendidly. Dave was surprised that the borscht was cold and went well with soda bread and steak.

And as they retired to the living room, Dave Jr. just stared at him. He was too afraid to ask him any questions and the elder Karofsky probably knew he was being watched. It wasn't hard to figure out why either.

"So!" Dave Sr. began, "You want to know about that note, huh?"

The boy perked up.

"Yeah."

Another shot of Stolichnaya caused the old man to grit his teeth a little. "Alright. I'll tell you." And then, he looked away. "Just as soon as I fully understand it myself."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Instead of getting an answer, Dave Jr. watched the man struggle to get back up and walk into the kitchen. He was gone for several minutes as the bells rolled in the '1812 Overture' on the stereo. The boy was losing his patience and was tempted to roll his fingers on the sofa repeatedly when the old man came back in.

"Here."

Dave Jr. saw something tossed on his lap. It looked like a strange kind of battery for large stadium lights. It was cream colored and Dave tossed it around in his hand a few times.

"What's this?"

"Agent Orange."

 _"JESUS CHRIST!"_ Dave yelled, hurling it to the floor.

"Oh, don't worry boy. These little devices were defunct a long time ago."

Dave Jr. just stared at it. It looked almost like a strange kind of bookend, a footnote to a history that everyone wished they'd forget.

"In fact," Dave Sr. began, "if the army knew I had this…"

"Or the health department! Why do you have this?"

Grandpa stroked his rough chin a little as he thought over how to answer this. And when he did, his index finger touched the ugly, memory-induced scar from his forehead all the way down to his chin. And just when his lip quivered, he reached for the vodka bottle.

"I'm having another shot. You?"

"No."

Dave Sr. quickly took another gulp of vodka and then slowly lifted his eyes to his grandson. Both men were simply each other at one time in their lives – chewed up and spit out. And as they looked, Dave Jr. realized that his grandfather might've been…

"Because that's the last thing I remember having on me," Dave Sr. painfully began, "when Kurt was with me."

"Was?" Dave Jr. asked. "What do you mean 'was'?"

The old soldier stroked his scar again and leaned forward, albeit with some difficulty. "I'll tell you, boy. But you must listen." Dave Jr. rolled his eyes. "Nyet, nyet, _FUCKING NYET!"_

That got the boy's attention. He'd never heard him swear before. The boy gulped and remained silent.

Then, the stubborn old Russian grabbed the bottle of Stolichnaya and set two shot glasses. He handed one to the boy.

"Here."

"Thank you."

"Skoal."

"Skoal."

They drank. The first of the cannons blasted in the '1812 Overture' and suddenly, the entire demeanor of the tough old son of a bitch shook a little. His eyes were closed and he seemed lost in all of the cannonfire, the battlements, the horrible, horrible memories of a war that never should've been fought. And when he finally opened his eyes, he watched the careful, protective eyes of his grandson staring at him with so, so much passion and concern. It almost brought tears to their eyes.

Almost.

"I'll tell you," Dave Sr. whispered, "more. Oh yes, by God I will. But I have to start off where I left you. Now," he leaned back, pulling the vodka bottle with him, "where was I?"

"You were…" Dave Jr. cleared his throat, "you were watching…K-Kurt sing in the commissary."

"Oh yeeeeeees…" Memories took over and a soft, fond look conquered the strong, proud, Russian man's face. "Oh yes. His singing…"

The '1812 Overture' ended. The silence in the room was engulfing and neither wanted it to be silent again.

"So," Dave Sr. started, "Kurt _WAS_ with me. And he would be with me for quite a while, you understand. But in those days…" he scratched his jaw, "well, a…friendship like ours wasn't viewed as…normal." Dave Jr. nodded. "So, I want to go on and warn you, boy. I want to warn you of all the hate in this world. Of wars you should never fight. Of hell on Earth that can capture and eat you. And of so, so, soooo much…" he took another quick sip directly from the bottle, "love. So, please listen to my words, boy. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Oh please, boy. Don't!"

Dave Jr. felt a tear escape his eye.

.

 **AN: Thank you all for reading! Let me know what you think and if you liked it. Please review. Please be kind. Have a Nice Day!+ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Hey everyone! :)**

 **Thank you to your WONDERFUL reviews and support for this story! Its appreciated. X3**

 **We are back with Kurt and Dave and boot camp.**

 **I dont want to give too much away.**

 **I tried really hard to be accurate as possible here. A lot of research was done, so if I get anything wrong, I apologize.**

 **Here's a list of the guy's nicknames for each other and also some new OC's. In no particular order:**

 **Kurt - Fancy**

 **Dave - Fury**

 **Daniel Jones - Chocolate**

 **Bryan Pierce - Brain**

 **Arthur Abrams - Tech**

 **Sean Evans - Bo**

 **Warning: For drugs and alchohol. Nothing too bad I just thought I'd give a warning.**

 **Please review. Please be kind. If you have any questions let me know.**

 **Anyway without further ado I bring into the bootcamp.**

 **Chapter 5**

Two things were on his mind that morning – Quinn and Kurt. Although they were for two very different reasons, they both came from a strange place of caring. Quinn would be in college now and would be fighting off the boys. And despite Dave not liking that very much, he knew she'd be fine. Sure, he missed her, as he stretched his legs out on his bunk. But even as he thought of her, she could always seem to have fun and still, somehow, be safe.

On the other hand, Kurt was quite the paradox. He could be difficult and couldn't always follow orders. And then he wasn't the physically strongest guy around. But that voice.

Dave shook his head, crossing his right foot over his left. Oh, that hippie song almost made Dave smile as he remembered watching Kurt in the commissary the day before. The way Kurt smiled and sang, something so foreign to this unhappy and strict environment, spoke to him in a very different way. He thought about introducing him to Quinn someday.

He actually chuckled out loud at that. After he quickly looked around to see that nobody caught him, he wobbled his feet in time with that stupid hippie song. A song, that under other circumstances, he might better appreciate. But politics wasn't his strongsuit and he just kept to being a grunt. And he could quickly see Quinn and Kurt becoming the strongest of friends.

One of the grunts passed by and Dave collected himself. Out of habit, he checked his sidearm and bunk. Everything was in order and he wasn't due to his post for another hour. So, he had time to kill.

And yet, even as he drifted off into his mind, he couldn't get the image of Kurt singing out of his head. The kid was so damn skinny that Dave easily thought he could get his arms around him…

Dave immediately got up and started pacing. His hands went to his hips like he was doing a Russian dance or something. Besides, he made yet another inspection of his bunk before the C.O. walked by. He was a burly bastard but at least Dave understood it all. But Kurt still seemed to struggle a little and yet again, he couldn't figure out why he cared.

That's when he heard a crash from outside and some guys yelling. It was very short yet it got his attention. Mildly curious, Dave sauntered over towards the door and left. And when he got outside, he was greeted with the most unexpected image.

Kurt had someone in a headlock! The guy was frantically struggling below but Kurt held firm. And just as Dave was about to intervene, some MPs came running up and everybody scattered. But not Dave. He just stood watching as Kurt finally let go and glared at the jerk that obviously tried to mess with him in some way. The little singing solder then marched off to the barracks and was soon out of sight. Dave followed.

Kurt was in the commissary. It took a long moment for Dave to find him and when he did, he casually walked up to him.

"That was-" Dave began but stopped. Kurt was wiping his eyes.

"I'm fine!" Kurt roared. "I'm not crying because I'm weak!"

Pause. "I know. I'm learning you are one of the strongest men I've ever met."

Kurt froze for a second, staring at Dave in the mirror. Then, he splashed some water on his face and left. The bigger boy watched him go and somehow, someway, a little smile formed on his face.

And as the evening wore on, the commanding officers and other prefect-like officers gave them a huge surprise – they would have the evening to themselves. They were guided on what to do – make sure your duties were completed correctly and check in with your CO from time to time.

Of course, that was code for do whatever you wanted.

Moments like these were few and far between. And Dave and Kurt found themselves together again. One guy found a guitar. Another, a songbook. And still another, a banjo. So, many popular song artists from the day were performed badly – Creedence Clearwater Revival, Arlo Guthrie, Janis Joplin, etc. It didn't matter. With no TV or radio in their area, they made due with the crude and badly out of tune instruments and had their own fun.

Dave watched Kurt groove to a Janis Joplin song and found he couldn't take his eyes off him. Once in a while, Kurt would look over and flash that golden smile of his, the one that now made Dave smile and he would never admit it. They were sitting with the other guys while someone was incredibly flat in 'Four Dead in Ohio'.

Dave looked up and saw two guys approach Kurt. The guys were making too much noise for Dave to hear what they talked about but it looks like they asked Kurt to sing and Kurt turned them down. Evans and Abrams looked disappointed and they tried to convince him to sing. It didn't work. Kurt refused again and the guys turned away.

And the only sound Dave wanted to hear was Kurt's singing. He stared holes into him, noticing stupid little things about the boy. Like, the way his head tilted when a pitch got so high or how his complexion was the color of a dishonorable discharge. At one point, Kurt laughed out loud and looked over at Dave, only to be disarmed by the intensity of Dave's face. They froze for a second and Dave smiled embarrassed.

"Alright boys!" Someone yelled. "Who wants some?!" A baggie was held up along with a bottle of vodka. Nearly every guy put their hand and grabbed this color pill or that one and the big swig of alcohol. Dave refused either, but Kurt took a swig of vodka, instantly regretting it. He violently coughed and it took him a while to recover. Dave watched him from the short distance.

Meanwhile, the music went on amongst all the silly, dancing, pupil-dilated boys. Kurt's feet bobbed up and down on his bunk and Dave couldn't stop laughing at Evans and Abrams.

"Hey Evans!" Dave yelled.

"What?"

"Where's Tech?"

"Abrams? He's out…" he looked around, his head wobbling, "I don't know."

Dave scanned the room and didn't see too many conscious guys left. Those that were, were NOT in a position to look for anybody. So, more out of sense of protection than duty, Dave got up and left the room. And before the door shut, Kurt was right behind him.

"Oh, no you don't!"

"What?" Dave innocently asked.

"I know you're using this as an excuse to get away!"

"Why, whatever told you that?"

They laughed and meandered towards one of the supply buildings. There was only one security light and the boys were pretty much in darkness. Inside the barracks, the boys were still singing terrifically badly and Dave and Kurt were all alone.

Kurt hopped on a plank of wood and Dave sat on a nearby stump. The warm evening of Hawaii opened up to them and they found themselves staring at the sky. Orion and possibly Sirius stared back at them, as if they belonged in those stars.

"When," Kurt suddenly asked, face still skywards, "do you think we'll get deployed?"

"Don't know."

Kurt nodded and dropped his head. "I can think of soooo many better places to be than here."

"I suppose I could too."

"You suppose?"

"Well, yeah. I mean," thoughts of Quinn, college, home…Kurt, "yeah."

"When we get over there," Kurt began, hiking a leg up closer to the bigger boy, "make sure we get sent to the same area."

"How would I do that?!"

"I don't know! Use crystals or your magic or something!"

Dave stared at him like he didn't know him. "Ummm-"

"Oh shut up. I just don't want to go over there and not…"

"Me too."

They stared holes into each other, desperately, desperately lonely for something they didn't even completely know or understand. They watched each other for a long moment as sounds around them shifted – insects, sniper drills, guys badly singing, more loneliness.

"Promise me something?"

"What?" Dave asked, just a hair closer to the boy.

"When we get there…you'll write Quinn."

Dave chuckled. "You know, I told her the night before I left that I already started a letter to her."

"You did?"

"Well…no. But I will."

With no warning whatsoever, Kurt grabbed Dave's wrist. "Do it, Dave. Don't wait. You just…never know."

Eyes met again and they were all alone. "I will, Kurt. I will."

Barely a moment passed before Kurt kissed Dave on the cheek and ran off. Stunned, Dave watched him go, as Kurt quickly disappeared into the shadows. Dave wondered why his cheek tingled.

.

"Good fuckin' shot, Hummel! Now get the fuck up and get back!"

Dave watched him go, a little envious. Kurt hit all of his targets in rifle practice and Dave watched a few guys glare, stare, or congratulate him.

"Didn't know you had it in you."

Dave watched Kurt come to a stop and look up into Tech's eyes.

"Well, thank you Arthur! I didn't know either."

"Me either."

Everyone turned to see that Chocolate had spoken. A quiet guy, Daniel Jones just stood there, head slightly bowed. He said all he needed to say.

"Well, thank you, Daniel!" Kurt enthusiastically said. If Chocolate was impressed, he didn't say or do anything.

"I'm just glad I didn't hit anyone." Bryan Pierce said. "If I did, I hope I wouldn't be court martialed."

"You wouldn't be!" Chocolate suddenly said.

"Well, it would be murder…right? I always get confused on such things."

Kurt seemed charmed and simply turned and walked away. And Dave watched the kid strut off, like he should. Of course, his sudden entourage of Brain, Chocolate, Bo, and Tech followed.

"So, Kurt? You goin' In Country?"

"Eventually."

"When?"

"I don't have my shipping papers." Kurt said, with a touch of a smile. The group followed him and Dave slipped in behind them. "But what are you all doin' after the war?"

"Don't know." Too many people said this and Kurt came to an abrupt halt.

"No! No, no, no! No way. You _ALL_ have to have plans. You've all got girls back home, right?" Nearly everyone said yes. "Well, then… _WHAT?!"_

Dave snickered when Kurt was greeted with silence. So, Kurt took the bull by the horns.

"Well, I'm gonna go home and visit my dad and go to New York."

"I'm gonna go to MIT." Brain Pierce said. Everyone just looked at him. "I am!"

"I'm gonna marry my girl." Chocolate simply said.

"I'm gonna…I don't know."

Kurt looked over and saw a very glum Sean Evans. The normally cocky kid seemed a little lost or something as Dave followed all of them.

"Well, don't worry… _BO_. I'm sure you'll be bird dogging chicks when you get back."

"Damn right I will. Far out!" And that was all it took.

Kurt's work there was done. He walked into the barracks while the others went in various directions. Dave, of course, was curious about this newer, slightly arrogant Kurt Hummel. So, he passed by the guys who were laughing and joking and carrying on. One was flicked on the ear and the other punched him in the arm. And just as Dave reached the barracks, he heard singing from one of them.

He opened the door and found Kurt sitting on his bed, toe-tapping to something in his head. The boy turned, saw Dave and flashed that winning smile.

"You're so fuckin' weird, Hummel."

Kurt laughed. "I am, huh?"

Dave sat down at the foot of Kurt's bunk. "Yeah, but in a good way." Kurt laughed and looked down.

And then, a moment that could only be described as 'kind of awkward' fell around them. They were fully aware of what happened the previous night and the elephant in the room was putting pressure on them. They didn't exactly know how to handle that.

Of course, that's when the others had to interfere.

"There he is!" Tech exclaimed as Chocolate, Brain and even Bo came in. "The killer of commies!"

Kurt laughed and dramatically lifted his head. "Oh, I don't think so." Everyone stared at him in silence. "At least, not yet."

"Hell yeah!" Bo insisted. "Fuck, we should call _YOU_ Fury, Kurt. You're not all that Fancy." Kurt politely smiled and didn't say anything. Dave was surprised his eyes didn't roll out of his head.

"I'm just glad," Brain started, "that I don't have to go anytime soon."

"Why not?" Chocolate asked.

"Well, where would I go?"

Everyone looked confused for a split second before Dave came to the surprising rescue.

"That's right, Bryan. You only have to go where they tell you to go."

That seemed to satisfy Brain and that was it.

Meanwhile, Kurt was having the time of his life. Now respected, to a degree, he could be more of his jovial self and Dave just loved watching him. And as the guys went on to more chatter, Dave and Kurt gravitated towards each other.

"Fury?" Kurt asked.

"Fancy?" Dave asked.

They just smiled and folded their arms across their torsos. They were far from the either of those nicknames. But they were accepted amongst the laughing and even cheering guys around them and that was even better!

 _"ATTENTION!"_

Every single guy got in formation and came to a standstill. The Commanding Officer walked in carrying a box. As he walked, he handed each of them a piece of paper.

"Congratulations, pussies. You're all going to Saigon. The day after tomorrow."

And as quickly as he came in, he left. What was once a celebration is silliness and innocence had quickly become a reality. Kurt glanced at Dave, but otherwise, no one could look at anyone else.

.

 **AN: Thank you for reading. What did you all think? I'd love to hear your thoughts. ts only going to get tougher from now on. :(-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: HI EVERYBODY!**

 **ONCE AGAIN, thank you sooooooo MUCH for your kind reviews and support! This is so helpful in keeping this story going.**

 **So here, we see more of the Karofskys plus a new OC. His name is Kevin. I think you'll like him! LOL!**

 **Quinn makes an apperance too.**

 **ENJOY! And please review. Please be kind. HAVE A NICE DAY!- ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3**

 **Chapter 6**

"Grandpa?"

"Yeah?" He answered roughly.

"Can I come-?"

"Huh?! You have to speak up, boy!"

Dave Jr. cleared his throat and spoke into his cell phone. "Grandpa? Can I come over tonight?!"

"Yeah, I don't care. You're gonna go home some time though, boy."

"I know, I know…" And then, the moment of truth came. "Can…can I bring someone?"

"Huh?! You know I got shellshocked ears, boy. Speak up!"

"I said, do you mind if I bring someone over?!"

"What? For homework or somethin'?"

Pause. "Yeah."

"Fine. Get here before dark, boy."

And that was it. Grandpa Karofsky hung up the landline telephone and got back to work. Soon, it would be out in the open and David Karofsky Jr. would never be able to walk away from his life again.

.

The late afternoon sun blinded his eyes. Sometimes when he looked up, he would see rays of sunshine, or North Vietnamese mortars, or Kurt's smile. It never seemed to have a consistent pattern. But that day when the old son of a bitch looked west towards the setting sun, he saw two people approaching his farmhouse. One, of course, was his grandson. That kid had a very familiar strut common in the family. But when Grandpa Karofsky tried to see the other kid, it was a little harder to make out.

He was small. Much smaller. Then again, many people were compared to Dave Jr. He seemed like he might blow away in the breeze. And yet, as they got closer and the sun dipped low enough for his sixty-two year old eyes to focus the better, he couldn't miss that smile.

Jolts and jolts of memories smashed the old man's brain and he knew exactly who his grandson was bringing. Homework, my ass, he thought. Instead, he told every single farmhand to go home. A few argued that they weren't done yet and he just yelled at them to get the fuck off his property. Almost angrily, he stormed back into his farmhouse and all but collapsed in the kitchen chair.

The boys were still at least a minute or so away. He took the moment to compose himself while he waited. Dave Sr. considered some vodka. He also considered his .45 revolver, although not very seriously. And then, he considered sucking it up and meeting this kid. In the end, he simply wiped his face with his handkerchief as he heard their steps up the front porch.

"Grandpa?"

The screen door opened. Dave Sr. refused to look behind him.

"Grandpa?"

Footsteps. Slower footsteps. Finally, the grandson was in the old man's peripheral vision. Grandpa Karofsky turned and looked up at him and only him.

"Grandpa? This is boyfriend, Kevin. Kevin Hargenson."

Dave Sr. turned and groaned his way up to a standing position. He towered over the young lad who looked up at him a little fearfully. So, doing what he knew best, he suddenly stuck his hand out.

"David Karofsky…Senior."

"K-Kevin Hargenson."

They shook hands and Kevin thought his hand would pop off.

"Hargenson. Norweigan?"

"What?"

"Is that name Norweigan?"

"Um, German. And Norweigan…I guess."

"Hmmm."

Dave Sr. simply turned around and sat back down. "Boy, what are we doin' for dinner?"

"Hungry?" Dave Jr. asked.

"Of course. I always am. This belly doesn't get this big without food, boy."

A short snicker escaped Kevin's mouth. Otherwise, there was no response. Instead, Dave Jr. waved Kevin over towards the refrigerator and pretended to look for something to eat. And as they perused the items, Dave Sr. watched them.

Soon, the boys were giggling. He couldn't hear them very well, but he knew laughter when he heard it. And when he saw his grandson smile so, so brightly, he knew he was happy. Dave Sr. watched them for the time being, letting his years and years of pain start to consume him.

"Hey boy!"

Dave Jr. looked up. "Yeah?"

"Aparativ."

"Alright."

"What?" Kevin asked.

"You'll see. Just keep looking for what we might like to eat. We eat… _A LOT!"_ Dave Jr. said with a smile and walked across the kitchen. Kevin watched him grab a bottle of Stolichnaya and two shot glasses. While Dave rinsed them out, Kevin returned to the refrigerator and then explored the freezer.

"If I'd known I'd be cooking-"

"You won't be the only one." Dave Jr. answered.

"Oh, I won't?"

"No. I'll…help."

They both giggled. Neither boy realized that Dave Sr. was gone.

Meanwhile, the glasses were rinsed out and when the grandson turned to place the glasses and bottle on the table, he looked around for his grandfather and didn't find him right away. He walked across the big kitchen, through the pantry, and into the living room.

There he was. Hovering over the stereo, Dave Jr. heard it come to life and he knew exactly what would be blasting through the house – in more ways than one. Giddily smiling, Dave Jr. all but ran back to his boyfriend.

"Kevin!"

"Dear God, Dave! Don't scare me like that! What is-?"

"Remember that song I told you about? Grandpa is playing that right now."

"OK, OK." Kevin said, grabbing some celery from the veggie tray. "What's so-?"

"It's amazing!"

Kevin looked up at him patiently. "OK, Dave. I'll listen. And I WILL finish a sentence with you someday."

Dave Jr. relented. "Sorry, babe." His arms slid around slender hips. "I just wanted to bring you here and…I don't know."

"It's sweet. It really is."

Dave looked up and lips met. It was just a short, soft kiss…ruined by Dave tickling Kevin's ribs. The smaller boy backed away and then spanked Dave Jr., who yelped but ran off anyway.

And the entire time, Dave Sr. watched them.

"Nyet, nyet, _NYET!"_

The boys came to a stop as he walked up to the table.

"Nyet, boy! There are three of us here!"

"Oh, grandpa! I don't think he'll want-"

"Don't care. An aparativ should be shared by all."

"But grandpa-!"

"No buts!"

Immediately, Dave Sr. tore through his kitchen just as Kevin reached for some frozen chicken breasts. A third shot glass was removed from the cupboard. Then, he hobbled back to the table, plopping down with three grunts. Promptly, he poured three shots of vodka as Dave Jr. sighed.

"Kevin," Dave Jr. patiently began, "grandpa wants us to do an…aparativ."

"What's that?"

By then, he approached his boyfriend. "It's…a shot of vodka before dinner."

"But Dave! We're teenagers! And we're-!"

"I know, I know. But he's a big, old Russian who won't let you out of this house if you're a danger to yourself."

"But Dave. I've never had…alcohol before."

"You'll be fine." And then, Dave Jr. stood directly in front of him. "I'll help you."

"Oh, don't play your hero act in front of your Russian grandfather! I can take care of myself."

"I know, I know."

Meanwhile, impatient, tapping fingers could be heard across the way and Dave Sr. was getting a kick out of what he was seeing. Now and then, Kevin would peek over the grandson's shoulder and the old man knew one hell of a persuasion job was going on there. So, the old man just folded his arms over his grumbling belly and waited. And waited. And waited.

And then, the louder strings of the '1812 Overture' could be heard and the boys came to a stop.

"Oh my God!" Kevin exclaimed. "Is that…? Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes." Dave Sr. responded. "Now get over here, boys."

A lone French horn could be heard from the stereo in the other room as Kevin and Dave Jr. sat down. They watched the old Karofsky pour three shot glasses full and Kevin gulped.

"Skoal!" The Karofsky's announced and down the shot at once.

"Sk-shole." Kevin muttered. And he sipped his glass. Volleys of coughs fell out of his mouth and the other two guys just laughed.

"You'll get used to it." Dave Jr. said as Kevin ran to the sink for fresh water. Dave Sr. looked at his grandson with pride.

"I'm…I'm gonna get s-started on dinner." Kevin muttered and shook his head a little. Dave Jr. looked approvingly at his grandfather. But the old man nodded to his boyfriend and Dave Jr. went over to make sure he was OK, which he was, of course. He was Norwegian.

"Boy!"

"Yeah, grandpa?"

"Come here."

The Karofsky boy sat down near him. Inconsequential chatter filled their air – they talked about their day, had another aparativ, and compared battle scars from work, battle, or football. Several minutes went by before they heard a soft exclamation from across the room.

"Borscht?! Is this borscht?"

"Yes." Dave Sr. replied, mildly surprised. "You know it?"

"Yes, I do! When I went to Columbus, I went to the Russian Tea Room and had some! It was amazing." He pulled the container out of the refrigerator. "OK. We are soooo eating this tonight."

Dave Sr. laughed a little and simply watched the show. There's something comforting about watching people who might become family become comfortable in your own home. You feel like you belong even more. Even when it's your own home.

Dinner was chicken breasts in a risotto reduction, with a side of borscht, soda bread, and mincemeat pie. A meal suitable for a Russian. And the Karofskys ate nearly all of it. Dave Sr. didn't like that Kevin only had one chicken breast and a small bowl of borscht, but the kid seemed content. So, he let it go.

The first of the trumpets sounded in the Overture and Kevin closed his eyes. Dave Jr. watched in admiration and Dave Sr. wouldn't look up. The meal was completed very peacefully.

After dinner, the boys were cleaning up and Dave Sr. grabbed the vodka and started the Overture again. After a few minutes, they were done and all three came into the living room – Grandpa was on the couch, Dave Jr. on a chair nearby and Kurt on a piano stool near him. Nobody talked and everybody just seemed content.

"Excuse me." Dave Jr. said and left for the restroom.

Kevin gulped. He didn't expect to be left alone with him. Nervously, he looked around and saw a portrait on the wall.

"Mr. Karofsky?"

"Call me David, boy."

"Of course. David?"

"What?"

"What is that portrait?"

Dave Sr. looked up and squinted. "Just a relative."

"Oh."

Conversation died. Strings in the orchestra swelled and Kevin twirled his hands in his lap. Dave Jr. seemed to be gone forever!

"You love him?"

Kevin's head snapped up. "W-what?"

"Do you love my grandson?"

"Um…yeah. Very much so. He's…"

Dave Sr. nodded. "Good. Very good. You never know…" he shifted on the other side of his sore hip, "when you…might…"

Just then, Dave Jr. entered the room and grandpa stopped talking. But Kevin stared at him, his hand just over his heart a little. There was suddenly something so painfully stricken about his words and it tore through Kevin's heart. Dave Jr. noticed immediately.

"Kevin? You OK?" Dave Jr. asked.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine." He responded. "It's just…I should get home."

Two pairs of Karofsky eyes looked at him.

"I'll walk you home." Dave Jr. said.

"That's fine. Stay here."

"No, I'll walk you home."

"I swear, I'm fine. I'll be-"

"No, I'm walking you home."

"God-!…" Kevin took a breath and through gritted teeth said, "David, I'm fine. Stay here with your grandpa. I've drunk less than you two. I'll be fine." And just when Dave Jr. started to protest, Kevin abruptly stood up.

"David? Mr. Karofsky? Are you still awake?"

"Yeah…"

"I'm going home."

"Is…my grandson…walking…?"

Kevin smiled. "No, sir. He's staying here with you."

And when the drunken eyes of the old veteran looked up into the strong kids eyes, he knew Dave Jr. would never get his way.

"I should've known…" Dave Sr. muttered. Kurt looked at him curiously. But before he could say anything, the old man suddenly got up! And before either of them could ask him if he was alright, he abruptly started up the stairs.

"I'm off to bed boys. Good night, Kevin. You're welcome back any time."

And with surprising speed, he was up the stairs and gone.

A few minutes later, Dave Jr. ran up the stairs. Years ago, he'd seen his grandpa's room once. Just once. He knew it was at the end of the gorgeous banister that hugged the hallway. And he carefully walked up to the door, softly knocking.

"Grandpa?"

No response.

"Grandpa?"

Again, no response. So, Dave Jr. opened the door just a little bit. He saw his grandfather in bed, his back to him turned on his side. And just as Dave Jr. closed the door to go to his own room, he heard the muffled sound of crying.

.

Saturday morning. Dave Sr. had barely moved in the bed. Eyes open and puffy, he stared at the ugly, yellow patterns of the Edwardian wallpaper across from him. Nothing stood out in detail and he doubted he was trying to remember.

He hardly blinked. He probably had to use the toilet. He may have even wet the bed. And still, he just stared.

Somewhere in his brain, he registered that Dave Jr. was making breakfast. A faint aroma of coffee, eggs, and sausage was in the air and Dave Sr. blinked.

A few minutes later, there were other noises in the house. Chatter on a telephone, clanking of dishes, and eventually a knock on his door.

"Grandpa? Breakfast is ready."

No response.

"Grandpa?"

A long pause. This time, the boy didn't open the door. Instead, he just turned around and headed back downstairs. There was the faint sound of more talk on a telephone and Dave Sr. drifted back to sleep.

.

"Hey fat ass! Yeah, you, you fat assed Russian pain the _ASS! GET UP!"_

He knew that voice. He'd known it for over forty-five years. But he didn't move. And, of course, that didn't stop the footsteps going up the staircase, clomping down the hall, and the bedroom door blasting open.

"Get up, you Russian son of a bitch!"

"Quinn," Dave Sr. muttered, "go away."

"No."

He heard her cross the room and wobble his shoulder. Rockets of pain crushed his body and he groaned.

"Oh shut up. Now, get up. Your grandson… _OUR_ grandson let me in here."

"No, he didn't. You just came in."

"Well," Quinn heartily began, "a little from column A, a little from column B."

"Ohhhh, Quinnnn!" He pulled the covers over his head.

 _"GET UP!"_

 _"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, QUINN!"_

 _"YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO LOST KURT!"_

Dave Sr. blinked twice. Then, he pulled the covers down and squinted into the early morning sunshine. He braved turning on his back and looking up at her.

My God, she was still so, so beautiful. The light blonde hair had some touches of gray and she wore a beautiful purple blouse and gray pants. And despite how she was treating him in that moment, she always had the kindest, most patient eyes. In that instant, he wished life had been kinder to her.

"I'll help." She compassionately said, sliding her hand under his burly shoulder. Moaning and groaning, he did finally sit up. The world spun on its axis and he saw spots for a split second. And after she helped him with a fresh shirt and to and from the bathroom, she slid his houseslippers off and helped with his boots.

"I can dress myself, you know."

"Well, too bad. _OUR_ grandson has made a nice breakfast and you need to make an appearance." Pause. "He's…worried."

Dave Sr. put two and two together and asked, "Did he call you?"

"Yes."

He groaned. "I really wish he hadn't have done that."

"Oh Dave." She sighed.

"Quinn?" She looked up. "I…I just need a minute to get ready. Alone." She stared at him. "Don't worry. I'm not going back to bed. I just want to shower, shave, and shi-"

"I got it, I got it." She interrupted, backing up. "Just don't take too long."

"I know. You'll hunt me down like a dog."

"Ruff, ruff, big guy!"

Dave groaned and Quinn giggled. She placed a kiss on her hand and pressed it on his cheek. He immediately groaned.

"Ohhhh, go downstairs now."

"See you in a bit." And with that, she left.

Left to his own devices, he stared off into space, collecting himself. His eyes drifted off to that yellow patterned wallpaper across his bed and suddenly glared it.

"God, I hate that wallpaper."

So, after he skipped the shower, shaved, and used the toilet, he hobbled downstairs and heard laughter from below. It's always wonderful soothing sound to hear laughter in the morning, despite the pain in your body. And just as he reached the landing, he headed towards the stereo.

"Don't you dare!"

Dave Sr. came to a halt as Quinn was glaring at him.

"Don't you dare play that damn '1812 Overture' again!"

He groaned. "Yes… _MA'AM."_

"Now, get in here. Looks like Tara has been teaching Dave a few things about cooking. He made great omelets."

"Omelets?"

"Yeah. Figured that might perk your interest." She added, tapping his belly. She turned and practically bounced into the kitchen.

For Dave Sr., this was a strange experience. He was watching his friend and their grandson working together in the kitchen. Strange music came from Dave Jr.'s iPod and the old man plopped down at the table. In fact, the kid had a silly apron on and was smiling at his cooking. Quinn was sipping a cup of coffee and closing some curtains, so the morning sunshine wouldn't blind them. And Dave Sr. couldn't have been more…something. Not quite happy. More like…something.

Content.

He moved his stiff hips in his seat and a cup of coffee was placed in front of him, as well as an omelet that was easily bigger than the old Russian's ego. Quinn and Dave Jr. flanked him at the kitchen table and they ate in relative silence. Of course, the boys scarfed their food down while Quinn had some toast and two cups of coffee.

"I spoke," Quinn suddenly began, "to your mother." The men came to a complete stop. "She's…well, she wants you back home."

Dave Jr. pretended his eggs were the most fascinating thing in the world. Not saying anything, Quinn set her cup down, glanced at Dave Sr., who had a look of trepidation on his face, and then back at her grandson.

"She's absolutely wrong," she continued, "for kicking you out for something that cannot be cured when you're not sick. She's stubborn but you are going home just as soon as I take care of grandpa here."

The grandson's head shot up. "I… Are you sure?"

"Positive. She's…trying."

"Aren't we all?" Dave Sr. suddenly said.

"Dave, she's just…not who I thought she would turn out to be."

 _ME NEITHER,_ the old man thought.

"Me neither." Dave Jr. said out loud.

Quinn glanced at the both of them and suddenly erupted into laughter! She put her hand over her mouth and leaned back, as volleys of pure, feminine chuckles filled the farmhouse kitchen. She ended up coughing a little and had to restrain herself.

"You two…"

"What about us?" They asked.

"You two are just too, too easy. And too much alike. How in the world did I get so doomed as to have you two in my life?"

"Luck!" Dave Jr. said.

The old man laughed out loud! "That's right, boy! But, she's right. You gotta go home."

"Are you sure-?" Dave Jr. began.

"Yes! I'm fine. Besides," he glanced at Quinn and right back at his grandson, "you really think I can get away from this one here?" pointing at her. She devilishly smiled and winked at them both.

A thought occurred to Dave Jr. though. "Grandpa?"

"What?"

"If…mom's not OK with me, can I come-?"

"I'd prefer it if you stayed home."

Quinn straightened up a little, surprised at her longtime friend's callus answer.

"I mean, you may need to take care of your mom someday. She's made mistakes and it sounds like she's trying to make them right." Quinn hesitantly nodded. "So…you go home today, boy. Got it?"

Dave Jr. looked down. "Got it."

Quinn looked at each one of them and then placed a comforting hand on her grandson's wrist. He looked up at her, eggs in his mouth. "It'll be OK, Dave. It really will."

He swallowed his eggs. "Yeah…"

They finished eating and drinking and simply sat there, picking their teeth with a toothpick here and there, and several belches. Quinn closed her eyes with each disgusting action.

"So," Dave Jr. suddenly began, "Grandpa?"

"What?" He answered, hand balanced on his full belly.

"Whatever happened to Kurt?"

You would've thought a cloud passed over the sky; it got so dark in that room suddenly. No one said a word, except for a long sigh from Grandpa Karofsky's mouth.

Quinn let her elbow drop on the table, hand rest on her forehead. "Ohhhhh boy…"

.

 **AN: Oh boy indeed! So what did you all think? If you have questions, let me know. Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Hello Everyone! Thank YOU ALL SO much for your constant support and reviews and follows! I appreciate it so much! :)**

 **Warning: This is a war story. It was hell back then. It gets REALLY intense and scary. People get hurt here. I tried to keep it Rated T as much I could so its not as graphic but it is violent. A lot of research was done for this. I tried to do this part justice. If this bothers you, click out now. You have been warned.**

 **We are back in the past with Dave and Kurt. I don't want to give so much away. So I'll let you all read. :) Please review. Please be kind.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

 **Chapter 7**

Stifling heat. The kind of heat that makes fatigues into today's skinny jeans. You see spots and don't even want any alcohol. You can see waves in the air and mosquitoes are everywhere. You don't want anyone close to you, yet everyone's gear and guns are hip to hip – boots and saddles. Your helmet gets glued to your head and you want it off.

There's no escape from it.

They felt it right when they landed in the C-130 plane in Saigon. They'd be taking a chopper to somewhere else, but didn't know. And they didn't care. They all dreaded the big, dark, bay doors opening. That's when the heat would smash their senses.

"I still can't believe we're here."

Dave turned to see Kurt, staring almost fearfully at the doors.

"Looks like we are. And I'll never get used to riding in these coffins."

Kurt ignored the dark joke and for once, did not have a reply. Nervous chatter filled the air as some mosquitoes were already being swatted away. Then, the doors unlocked and opened wide.

A flat, crushing wave of heat almost knocked them over. And the sun was even brighter. They were ordered out and emerged into an open area near some kind of base. Dave and Kurt were escorted through several checkpoints, their gear bags checked, some preliminary medical tests, and then they were on their own.

Mobile triage tents were set up everywhere. Guys looked glum and tentative. Nobody really talked with anyone at this point. Instead, Dave and Kurt were just two more teenagers facing an ugly, impossible war that no one clearly understood.

And yet, as they walked, some guys adjusted nicely. Some were playing cards, passing baggies of pills, and still others were reading magazines. Cigarettes were everywhere and the familiar aroma of marijuana hung in the air. US Armed Forces radio played good, safe, 1950s music. Enormous turrets were pointed towards the west and every one carried at least two side arms and a canteen of water, as fresh as could be.

Further up the embankment, things got a little more intense. Snipers with binoculars were in the jungled trees looking out and mesh netting draped as far as the eye could see. Some units were already treating some wounded, including an overdose on some drug.

Dave and Kurt were awestruck into silence. They set up their shop on the beach, about a hundred yards from the front line. An hour went by and the boys barely moved. Kurt found the scenery a mixture of beautiful and ugly. Dave just didn't really care.

"Isn't it surprising?" Kurt asked.

"What?"

"Well, we get sent to the same unit."

"Yeah. It is."

Kurt leaned in conspiratorially. "You didn't do anything about this, did you?"

"How could I? We're just grunts! Not everyone we were with were sent here either."

"That's true." Kurt added, leaning back. He looked skyward. "Do you know what I see up in those clouds? I mean, besides that fighter jet?"

Dave looked up and ignored the plane. "No."

"Freedom."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. Up there, you have no boundaries. The sky's the limit."

Dave turned and stared in wonder at the kid. He always knew how to say the weirdest things at the right minute. After a few seconds, Kurt looked at Dave and smiled. They stared at each other, basking in the sun and strange surroundings. But then, that awkward moment from before began to interfere and Kurt looked away.

"I'm gonna get some magazines and water. Want something?"

"N-no." Dave said, as if dazed. Kurt left and Dave watched him go.

The first few days passed like this. Kurt and Dave were stuck there and didn't see anyone they knew from boot camp. They made casual acquaintances here and there and Kurt saw someone cheating at cards, but didn't do or say anything about it.

The heat continued to bear down on them and they were a little surprised no one was allowed to cool off in the ocean. But with the threats of mines in the area, no one even wanted to try.

Once in a while, gunfire could be heard. Especially at night. Dave and Kurt slept pretty much side by side, listening to that awful sound. They knew they would soon be heading into such fighting and neither wanted to face it. But they had no choice. They were grunts.

"Mail call!"

Every guy ran to the jeep that carried everybody's mail. News from home was like the Bible to them and they wanted any sort of happiness. Dave got two letters. Kurt didn't get any. They walked back together in silence. Dave felt sorry that he didn't get any mail but at least Kurt seemed pleased that Dave got _TWO_ letters that day.

As they walked, a soldier had a letter in his hands. But his hands were plastered to his helmet, head bowed. The guy was shaking and fell in on himself. And just after they passed him, the guy raised his head towards the heavens and screamed, _"WHYYYYYYY?!"_

Dave and Kurt whirled around but kept walking.

"Dear John." Somebody else said. The boys nodded and left him to his horror.

Dave tore the letter open and Kurt sat almost right beside him. Getting news from Quinn was just what he needed. As Dave read, he smiled a few times and then giggled once.

"What?" Kurt asked.

"Shhhh."

"What?"

"Shut up. I'm reading."

Kurt forced himself to be quiet and let Dave finish in peace. Around them, guys were smiling and reading. One was still crying.

Dave finished, folded the letter, and put it in his pocket. Then, he lied back, clasped his hands over his belly and looked at the sky. Kurt was flabbergasted!

"Well?!"

"Well, what?" Dave asked, shielding his eyes with his hand.

"Is she OK?"

"Oh yeah. She's fine." Kurt glared at him. "She is." Kurt kept glaring. "What?!"

"Well, talk to me, Dave! I didn't get any mail. What's going on in this mysterious Quinn's life?"

"Nothing."

"Oh my God, you are such a stubborn Soviet-"

Suddenly, Dave got up and grabbed Kurt by the lapels! He got right in Kurt's face and growled, "Don't…you… _EVER_ …call me a Soviet."

"OK, OK! I won't! I'm sorry. Back off, Dave!"

Dave glared for a second and then released him. He returned to his position on the ground, just like before, as if nothing had just happened.

"But…" Kurt began. Dave glared at him, which didn't stop the singer, of course. "Can you tell me some…good news? From…home?"

Dave sighed. "She's in school. College. She's the vice-president of the student council at Ohio State and she's happy."

"Wow…"

"Yeah."

"No, I mean, wow. I like her already!"

Kurt smiled at Dave and the bigger boy couldn't help but smile back. "Sorry about that. I just hate…commies."

"Well, I do too, apparently!"

Dave laughed and Kurt smiled even more. A spatter of gunfire could be heard in the distance.

.

The unit crept along. This tree, that vine, those impossible bamboo sticks that irritated the skin. The incredible, horrible heat. And eyes all in front as the unit moved through the dark jungle, despite the ample sunlight overhead. A radio went off and announced the next movement forward. There was a short pause and Dave looked to Kurt. With hand signals, he told Kurt he was moving ahead first and Kurt nodded.

Dave moved. Kurt followed. They unit crept along, slowly, ever so slowly as their machine guns were raised and the tension climbed. Sweat built in their eyes and trip wires were diffused. The jungle fought them every step of the way, as silence ruled their lives. A bird chirped, sun peeked through the wide bamboo leaves once in a while, and everything was still.

And then, the world exploded.

 _"FIRE!"_

The rifles fired, the turrets blasted, guys screamed, and everybody ran forward! Kurt ducked behind a tree and fired forward twice. Dave ducked over a small ravine and buried himself until he could see one of the enemy approach. Gunfire exploded around them and barrels smelled of smoke and fury. Mortars blasted overhead, landing with a plume of sound miles away.

And then, one of _THE_ worst sounds you would ever want to hear was in Dave and Kurt's ear – the sound of the enemy's language.

They were in trouble! _FAST!_

Kurt stayed in position, waiting for his CO to dictate a course of action. When none came, he crept along the ground towards Dave.

And Dave was staring into the eyes of a North Vietnamese soldier, eyes trained forward instead of down like he should've been. Dave aimed his gun at the man's heart and fired. He dropped like a sack of rice and an absolute and terrifying gun battle erupted all around him.

Kurt wormed his way to Dave.

"We gotta get the fuck outta here!" Kurt yelled.

"Where's the CO?!"

"I don't know!"

Dave took in the surroundings as bullets bounced around his ankles and elbows. Kurt struggled to keep his helmet on but kept his head up.

"Let's go, Dave!"

The enemy's voices got louder and Dave knew Kurt was right. Hunched down, they crept through the jungle until they were out of range of the voices and took off in a sprint. And when they did, they found the CO.

Or, what was left of him. The mangled corpse stared up at them, ugly and undignified. Arms were gone and blood gushed out like a shopping mall fountain. An explosion not too far away sprung them right back into action and Dave called out on the radio. And when he made the proper call signals, his face went as white as a ghost.

"What?!" Kurt yelled. "What?! Goddammit! _WHAT?!"_

 _"NAPALLLLM! WE GOTTA GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!"_

They ran. Other buddies ran with them. Dave screamed 'napalm!' over and over. Everybody scattered. Explosions. Guys crying, calling out for their mothers. Total fear.

And then, a great wall of fire behind them.

They lost consciousness.

.

Blinding light. Movement. Blurred vision. More lights.

Gradually, things became apparent and Dave and Kurt were in a mobile triage unit. Dave's head ached badly and he raised his hand to it. That's when he saw the IV sticking out of his right hand. Kurt too was waking up and he wriggled in his cot. Nurses stopped them and checked their vitals. And after two rounds of concussion and Agent Orange protocols, and they were cleared, the boys were released.

Neither spoke. They zombied back to where they were when they arrived. Their little tent seemed smaller. More insignificant. Dave reached into his pocket and his letters from Quinn were damaged. Readable, but permanently scarred.

They soundlessly plopped down and stared up into the evening sky. They didn't know what time or day it was. All they knew was that they had experienced the hell of war and they didn't know what to say or do.

Suddenly, Kurt got up. "I'm headed to the commissary." He left.

Dave put his hands behind his head and stared up at the sky. Since released from triage, he hadn't said a word, just like Kurt, and simply watched the sky like a zombie. Two stars twinkled above him. He focused his entire energy on these lights, these beacons of hope in the sky that promised peace – a world free from war and communism.

And when he blinked, the stars changed into the eyes of the North Vietnamese soldier he killed.

He didn't even realize he got up.

He didn't even fully realize where he was going.

He ambled along, looking like a man on a mission, but so devoid of hope and happiness that he could barely focus.

Completely alone, Dave walked towards the little shack only to see Kurt coming out. The singer walked off towards the full moonlight and Dave followed. A slight breeze in the air helped seem to guide them on this devastating journey. Away from the harsh realities of war.

Kurt took up residence on a stack of ammunition. He leaned forward, letting his forearms rest on his knees and looked up into the nighttime sky. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, ignoring the ugly smells of war and taking in the rich aromas around him – foliage, perhaps honeysuckle, and fruit. That's when he heard a funny sound – a kind of panting. He opened his eyes and looked up.

"Dave!"

But when they made eye contact, the intensity took over. Dave rifle-fired holes into Kurt's eyes, the boy who made a living by fighting. The bigger guy's breathing suddenly became even more erratic and he shook a little. Kurt turned closer to him but stopped immediately.

"I…" Dave oh so hesitantly began, "I…I…"

"Dave?"

Closer…closer…

"Dave?" Kurt whispered.

"I…k-killed…"

"Oh, we had to… We had-"

"I killed-"

"Sit down, Dave."

The bigger guy did just that, looking so small and lost. Kurt watched protectively and Dave just stared down at his hands. And this time, Kurt didn't hold back at all. He gently touched Dave's wrist and squeezed it just a little.

"I killed someone!" Dave softly exclaimed.

"Stop, Dave. He would've killed you had you not done it."

"I…killed…some-"

Kurt turned Dave's face to him. "You did absolutely nothing wrong. Nothing."

Dave stared into his eyes, hoping and hoping that Kurt was right. And just when the moon ducked behind some clouds in the nighttime sky, he did what he knew to do.

Dave lunged for Kurt and kissed him hard! Kurt's face hurt from the pressure. But the need, the _SHEER_ need of this, _THIS_ that held them together, kept them alive and sane, was all they needed. The kiss lingered and passion flowed as they sat on weapons of killing. And two soldiers shared a much needed respite from the true horror of war – the removal of security forever.

.

 **AN: What did you think? More to come... Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: HI EVERYBODY!**

 **The responses to this story are INCREDIBLE! Thank you so much! They give me the energy to keep going with this and I'm so, so grateful! X3! :)**

 **We're back in the present and we see more of the Karofskys - three of them, to be exact. And Quinn. And that reference to orange, too.**

 **Warning: A hate slur is used here. You have been warned**

 **ENJOY! :)**

 **And please review. Please be kind.**

 **HAVE A NICE DAY!- ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3**

 **Chapter 8**

"Excuse me? Did…Did I just hear you correctly, grandpa?"

"Yes, you did boy."

"Right then and there?"

"Yes, right then and there."

"But…" Dave Jr. began and then halted. He glanced as his grandma who sat silently watching her close friend, and then right back to him. "weren't you afraid of getting caught?"

"No. Not right then. It didn't even occur to me." He took a deep gulp of his coffee as if he were taking a drink of courage.

Quinn let her elbow rest on the table, her hand against her head. And Dave Jr. seemed at a loss.

"But, this was… _SO_ many years before 'don't ask, don't-'"

"You don't have to tell me that, boy." Dave Sr. grumbled. And then, his voice softened a little. "You've never been in war. It…changes you. It makes you into someone else." He glanced at Quinn and then right back at his grandson. "Sometimes, you take risks to stay…sane."

"But you could've been dishonorably discharged! _OR WORSE!"_

"Yep. That's right."

Stunned, Dave Jr. said nothing and a heavy, meaningful silence filled the room. The sun was further in the sky now and Quinn got up. As she approached the window to pull the curtains back, she stroked her friend's shoulder, which quivered a little. Then, she walked over towards the kitchen.

"Anyone want anymore coffee?"

No response. Dave Jr. just looked at his grandpa, who stared at his empty breakfast plate. Quinn sighed and poured herself one. And then, she walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door.

"Seriously, David." She began, "When are you going to stop drinking dairy? You know that's bad for your…" She shut the door, grabbed her coffee and sat back down.

"Grandpa?"

"What?"

"Are you gay?"

Quinn sat up, but the old Russian stayed put. "I don't know what I am, boy. I just know that I was in love with someone I could've spent the rest of my life with."

Quinn sadly smiled. "That's code for he's gay."

"Quinn!"

"Well, it's true!"

The old man grumbled but said nothing further. And that's when a coughing fit hit him again. He struggled for air a little and Quinn raced to the living room for her purse. Dave Jr. watched helplessly. And when his grandpa clasped his chest, he cried out for his grandma. Right then, she came in with a round, purple, plastic container and held it to her friend's mouth.

"Slow, slow…" she instructed.

Then the breaths became a little more stable. Quinn soothed his shoulder and Dave Jr. watched with morbid fascination. After about fifteen seconds, the old son of a bitch was breathing normally again and Quinn sat back down.

"Grandpa? What's wrong with you?"

When he didn't respond, Dave Jr. felt a soft hand on his wrist.

"War is hell, Dave."

He didn't fully understand but he let it go.

"Listen, boy." Dave Sr. started after one final cough, "When your stuck in a situation like mine and Kurt's, you do desperate things…to feel normal. I…cared for him. It was more than a kiss." Finally, he raised his bloodshot eyes and looked at his grandson. "You and Kevin... He loves you boy. Don't let go of him. You... just never know..."

There wasn't a dry eye at the table after that. There were so many more questions in Dave Jr.'s mind but he couldn't organize them all. So, instead, he just scooped up everyone's plates and began cleaning up. Once, he peeked over his shoulder and saw his grandpa and Quinn whispering. After a bit, Dave Sr. got up and lied down on the couch. Then, she returned to the room.

"You would've liked him."

"Who?" Dave Jr. asked.

"Kurt."

"I would've?"

"Oh yes," she said, reaching for some dirty cups for the wash, "he was very different from your grandpa. He talked about things that your grandpa had never considered. And he used to rave about the weirdest things."

"Like what?" Dave Jr. asked. "And not only that, how did you get pregnant with my mom when he's gay?"

"Well…" she said, reaching for the cupboard, "which one should I answer first?" She wiped a glass and put it away. When she shut the door, she turned to him. "I was a surrogate for your grandpa and Kurt."

"Kurt, Kurt, Kurt! It seems like everyone knows this guy but me!"

"Dave," Quinn compassionately began, "your mom wouldn't remember him. Kurt…" she brushed some hair away from her eyes, "wasn't around when he…"

"When he what?"

"That's something for your grandpa to tell you."

"Grandmaaaaaa!"

"No. Not at all. That's personal between your grandpa and Kurt. That's it. Understood?"

Dave Jr. grumbled and grabbed a dirty skillet.

"And as far," Quinn began, "as…weird things said, Kurt always said the most perfect color in the world was orange."

Thoughts of Kurt. Thoughts of Kevin. Thoughts of an artist and a singer and love and war and passion and everything consumed the boy's brain and he didn't say a single word. So, Quinn continued.

"He used to say that it was amazing that two ugly colors, like red and yellow, could be combined to create an ugly, but unique color. There's no other color like it." And then, she looked up at him. "He meant that no matter what, two things can come together and be happy…when they let it."

Dave Jr. stared at her and she compassionately smiled. They finished cleaning the kitchen in silence. But as soon as they were done, and Quinn went to her friend, Dave Jr. called him. And for the very first time, he told him he loved him.

.

It was time to go.

Quinn was doing a final check on her longtime friend and Dave was setting out Tupperware with leftovers for his grandpa's dinner that evening. After a little wry smile, he set out a bottle of Stolichnaya and a shot glass. Then, he turned and walked into the living room.

And what he saw nearly crushed him. Dave Sr. was lying on the couch. But Quinn was in his arms and they appeared to be crying. The grandson turned halfway away, agonizing over the aching sounds in their hearts. He knew things were being said between them but he couldn't hear. So, to help ease the tension, he cleared his throat.

Quinn tried to get up but the big, old, stubborn Russian wouldn't let her go! So, Dave Jr. loudly walked back into the kitchen, a message that they could be alone for a little while longer. It burned a fire in his heart that he didn't know the whole story, but time would tell on that and he tried his best to be patient. It wouldn't work, of course, but he would try.

His cell phone buzzed. He read the text. He smiled. And then, he couldn't wait to get back home.

A minute later, Dave Jr. braved returning to the living room. This time, they were standing and Quinn was reaching for her purse. Then, they turned, held each other's hand, and walked out together. Dave met them in the kitchen and headed towards the screen door with his backpack.

"Now, listen you-" Quinn began.

Dave Jr. listened to her start to berate his grandpa and simply set his bag in his car. He waited for her to give him a 'what for' and it didn't take too long. As Dave Jr. slowly walked back towards the porch, she was kissing his cheek and he'd said something a little harsh.

"Ready?" She asked, smile on her face.

"Yup."

She walked towards her car. But then, Dave Jr. looked up at his grandpa who was standing on the porch. Always a larger than life figure, Grandpa Karofsky looked lost suddenly and they just stared at each other.

"I get it now." Dave Jr. said.

"What?"

"Orange."

"Yeah? What about it?"

In response, Dave Jr. simply smiled. "Thanks Grandpa! I'll see ya' later!" Then, he trotted to the passenger side of the car and waved their goodbyes. Dave Sr. watched them go and wondered if it was too early for a shot of vodka.

In the car, Dave was reading his cell phone and giggling from time to time.

"What are you laughing about?" Grandma asked.

"Oh, I'm just reading texts from my…"

"It's OK, Dave. I know about Kevin."

Relieved, Dave Jr. said, "Oh, thank God! Anyway, I'm gonna get online and he's gonna show me some more musicals that I really don't wanna see, but I will."

"My God!"

"What?"

"First my best friend and now my grandson."

"What?"

Quinn smiled at him. "You _BOTH_ are horsewhipped by boys!"

Dave Jr. groaned. Quinn laughed. They arrived at his house.

A modest one-story house, Dave emerged first, cell phone in hand. He grabbed his backpack from the backseat and his grandma took a bit longer getting out. Finally, they had what they wanted and entered the house.

Dave's mom, Quinn's daughter, was sitting at the kitchen table watching TV. She didn't even look at him or her.

"Hi mom!" Dave enthusiastically said.

"Hi fag."

Dave's entire demeanor fell and Quinn wasn't sure she heard her right.

"Carrie!"

"What mom?"

"This is your son! And we didn't-"

Carrie didn't take her eyes off the screen. "I'm just welcoming my son home. Dave The Fag."

Immediately, Dave turned and fled the house. Quinn tried calling out to him but he was already down the road. She knew exactly where he was headed. Slowly, she turned around and faced her daughter.

"You really messed up, Carrie."

Quinn left. And Carrie Karofsky realized something – she forgot to start dinner for herself.

.

 **AN: Oh man... :(**

 **What do you all think? If you have any questions, let me know.-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Hi People! Lol :)**

 **I dont have much to say, so I'll say this... I have THE BEST SUPPORTERS IN THE WORLD. :)**

 **Thank you ALL so much for supporting this story. :)**

 **On to the story. Starts where last chapter ended.**

 **Quinn, Dave and Dave Jr. are back.**

 **I'm going to shut up now and just let you all read. :)**

 **Please review. Be kind.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

 **Chapter 9**

"David! David!" She then took a deep breath and screamed. "I'll take you there!"

Finally, well down the street, Dave Jr. came to a stop, turned around, and furiously stormed back towards his mom's house. In the driveway, his grandma Quinn was trying to catch her breath and finally did just when he angrily arrived.

"This had better not be a trick, grandma. Again!"

"Again?"

He didn't answer her. Instead, he marched to the passenger side of her car and got in. Quinn watched for a second before sighing and getting in the driver's seat. Silently, she started the engine and left Dave Jr.'s home.

It was a quiet ride for a while. Despite the slightly cool morning, windows were partially rolled down and the cool breeze did nothing to stop Dave's temper.

"Thanks a lot, grandma."

"What?"

"You _SAID_ she was over it! You said she was fine!"

"She!…" she cleared her throat, clearly also affected by what just happened, "She said she was."

"Uh huh."

"David Alan Karofsky Jr.!" Suddenly, she veered off the road, slamming on the brakes hard! After putting the car in park, she glared at him, "She lied to me, Dave!"

He wouldn't look at her.

"She did! I didn't know she could be so…cruel."

"Whatever."

"Don't whatever me…boy."

He finally looked over at her. "Oh! Oh really? And just what was that back there, huh?!"

"I don't know!"

Neither said anything for a long moment. So, with no other recourse of action left but the obvious, she put the car in Drive and they left again.

Quinn made a right hand turn towards the only place she could take him. And when Dave Jr. saw the familiar grounds, it was hardly a consolation.

"David?"

"What?"

"Just because she's your mother, it doesn't make her right."

Dave said nothing. Instead, when she pulled up the long driveway, he was silent as the grave and didn't even move. And when she put the car in Park and killed the engine, he bolted out the door and up his grandpa's steps.

"Goddammit." Dave Jr. heard.

"Grandpa?"

"Why are you back here, boy?"

"Where are you?"

"Kitchen."

Dave Jr. all but trotted into the big farmhouse cooking area to see his grandpa on his back under the kitchen sink. Channel locks were in his hand and he seemed to be struggling with a pipe.

"Goddammit."

"What?" Dave Jr. asked, just as Quinn entered the kitchen.

"Well," the old man wriggled out from under the sink, "it looks like I have to go back to the hardware store and why the hell are you back here?"

"David?" Quinn asked from afar. Her tone. Her _SERIOUS_ tone spelled trouble and the old Russian knew it.

"What?!"

"It…went all wrong. Carrie lied."

"Goddammit."

No one spoke for the rest of the morning. Or afternoon. Instead, the Russian duo simply got back to work. Quinn kept herself busy doing inconsequential things and she couldn't help but admire how they were so much alike.

Connected.

It was the farmhands' day off. So, the two Daves simply did chores around the barn, the old silo that could collapse with a strong windstorm, and truck garage. They fixed, painted, and strolled off into the fields once in a while. Two times, Quinn saw them and half-smiled. That's when an idea hit her.

She finally found them out in the garage. A pair of Russian bellies were sticking out of the bottom of a truck and Quinn had to suppress a laugh.

"Dave?"

"What?" replied both of them.

"I mean, Dave Jr."

The teen scooted on his butt, wide smile on his face, and looked up at her. "Yeah?"

"I need a bushel of apples soon."

"OK." He started to scoot back under the truck until grandpa Karofsky used the truck to pull himself out. The truck even wiggled a little bit.

"What for?"

"I'm making a Russian delicacy tonight."

"What?!"

"Yes, I am. I'm making Gous Yablokach."

"What?" Dave Jr. asked.

"Quiiiiiiin! I was saving that for Christmas!"

"Too bad." And then, she addressed her grandson. "Dave? The apples. In less than an hour."

"You got it, grandma!"

"Quiiiiiiin!" Dave Sr. whined.

"Oh, shut up."

As she turned to return to the farmhouse, she winked at him and walked back up to the house. Dave Sr. growled and the boy stifled a laugh.

Some time passed. As instructed, Dave Jr. brought a bushel of green apples to his grandma, who was already thawing the Christmas goose. He'd never had goose before and was curious. After that, he returned to his grandpa who had moved onto the barn.

Another hour passed and they could see the sun shifting in the sky. No one knew what time it was or cared. Work was work and you did it. And you didn't complain. That's farmlife.

Suddenly, Dave Jr's cell phone buzzed. He checked it and immediately groaned.

"What?" the surly grandpa asked.

"Oh…I…forgot something."

"What?" He repeated.

"I forgot to tell…Kevin that I'm still here."

"Mmm." Dave Sr. was looking up into the rafters of the barn. "You better tell him you're OK."

"OK." Dave Jr. used his greasy and sore fingers to fire off a text. "That's done."

"Did you tell him why you came back?"

"No. I just…I don't wanna do it by text."

"Mmm."

They worked on more panels and rafters for a little while longer, in silence. Some pigs oinked around them and they paid them no attention. Besides, the compost had been laid and they were getting their bellies full. The humans would be too, soon.

"You can stay."

Dave Jr. flipped his head over. "What?"

"I said, you can stay."

The boy looked down. "Th-thank you."

"Well, we can't have a homeless teenager, you know. You're a Karofsky. You have a good future. I just hope…"

"Hope what?"

Dave Sr. grabbed a cordless drill and approached a ladder. "That you and Kevin are OK."

"We are, grandpa."

"Are you?"

Dave Jr. looked up, confused. "Well, yeah. Why wouldn't we be?"

"Someone like him," he drilled for a bit into the wood and then stopped, "I could see him confronting your mother."

The boy chuckled. "Yeah. I could too. But he won't."

"Good."

And that was it. Another hour or two passed and they started struggling to find things to do. Dave Jr. could sense that his grandpa was running out of energy but didn't really want to stop. So, in the end, it was Quinn that saved the day.

"Hey! Where are you two?"

"In here!" Dave Jr. yelled.

A few seconds later, Quinn appeared. "I need help in the kitchen. When are you two gonna be done?"

"Well, I-"

"We're done, Quinn."

The boy and grandma looked at him with a little astonishment. When he realized he was being stared at, he said, "What? I'm allowed short days sometimes, too, aren't I? Now, get in the house, boy. Help your grandma."

"Yes, sir."

Grandma and grandson slowly walked back towards the farmhouse. Dave Sr. looked on as he put his drill and ladder away. And something akin to happiness filled his heart, then.

A few minutes later, Dave Sr. walked into the kitchen and immediately groaned. Quinn was berating Dave Jr. for not cutting the apples properly. And the goose was still not completely thawed. It was beginning to look like dinner wouldn't be ready for several hours. But that was OK for him. He just plopped down at the head of the kitchen table and watched the show.

He stifled a laugh though. Quinn had Dave put on an apron. Even with his old age eyesight, he could read what it said. It said, 'Don't knock my smock or I'll clean your clock!' It was such a Quinn thing to do and he couldn't help but admire her. She could get Karofsky men to do whatever she wanted and they didn't have a choice.

Suddenly, two shot glasses and a bottle of Stolichnaya were placed in front of him by his grandson. He looked up, only to see a truly, happy smile on the kid's face – the smile of gratitude and security.

"Hey!" This voice came from Quinn, who was sliding the huge bin in the oven. "I want some too."

"What?!" the Daves asked.

"Yeah. I'll take a shot. The Gous Yablokach is in the oven and it'll be an hour and a half before dinner. So…I'll do an aparatif too.

"That's Aparativ, Quinn."

"Well, whatever. I'll do it."

Dave Sr. warily looked at her. "You're driving tonight."

"So? I'll have one and that's it. It's custom, isn't it?"

The old Russian growled and asked for another shot glass. Three were poured and a round of 'skoals!' went in the air. Quinn coughed wildly for a second but held it together. And the guys just watched her. After that, they settled into a round of teasing, silliness, more aparativs which Quinn didn't share, and even the '1812 Overture'. Dave Jr.'s cell phone buzzed again and he excused himself to take a call.

"I'm OK…" they heard their grandson saying. "No, I'm still at grandpa's house….. Grandma's here too…. You'd love her. She's cool…. No, that's the stereo. Grandpa's playing the '1812 Overture' again….. I know, . No, no, it didn't go well. I'm still here and looks like I will be….. No. NO! Don't go over there!… Alright. Just…don't. I'll just…stay with him, I guess…."

Quinn and Dave Sr. looked at each other, serious expressions on their faces. He imagined her all those years ago in San Francisco, scared out of her mind of his fate in Vietnam and how he couldn't tell her he was scared for her in general. They shared so, so much with simple stares and understanding. Abruptly, Dave Jr. returned to the room.

"Grandpa? Is it OK if Kevin comes over tomorrow or something?"

"That's fine…" Dave Sr. replied, barely conscious of the question. He felt Quinn stroke his hand.

"What?" the boy asked.

"I said, yeah, that's fine."

Some more time passed and dinner was finally ready. The sweet, hearty goose with apples came out of the oven and both men inhaled deeply. And they ate like they were starved. Quinn hid her annoyance while they tore into their food like a pack of wolves. She watched them dive into the goose with their hands and when her grandson smiled, she was reminded of how men can be so easy.

After dinner, Dave Jr. helped her clean up and Dave Sr. helped himself to more vodka. He watched them together, laughing and being silly. This time, he gave Tchaikovsky a rest and played 'Firebirds' by Stravinsky on the stereo. A chorus of gorgeous sounds then filled his house for the first time in nearly fifteen years – song, laughter, and singing.

And full bellies, of course.

When they were done cleaning up, they joined Dave Sr. at the kitchen table. Another one of those uncomfortable moments passed when no one said a word. That damn elephant was in the room again and no one knew what to do about it. Quinn watched her friend and her grandson exchange glances that were incredibly serious. That's when she decided to act.

"It's time for me to go."

"Already?" the Daves said.

"Yes. I have to get home." Quinn said, getting up. "Besides…I think you two have a lot to talk about."

Neither of them said a word and she compassionately smiled. She crossed the kitchen and grabbed her purse.

"Take some goose home, Quinn."

"No, that's fine. That's more…" she pointed at the both of them, "YOUR thing. Not mine."

"Quiiiiiiin!"

"Oh, shut up." Then, she turned to her grandson. "Take care, Dave." Both men rose. "I can see…" she placed her hand to her nose, "I c-can s-see myself ou-out."

She practically ran out the door. And, of course, the guys followed. As soon as she was at the end of the porch, she heard the screen door open again.

"Grandma!"

She came to a stop and turned around. He so, so badly wanted to say something, anything to comfort this situation. But when no words came to him, she simply blew him a kiss. Then, she looked over his shoulder and did the same for her friend of over forty-five years. Briskly, she turned, got in the car, and drove away.

The wild strings of 'Firebirds' set their teeth on edge when they returned to the house. Dave Sr. almost angrily ripped the album from the player and hovered over it. Lights cast a dark gloom as the grandson watched him standing there, somewhere between his life and the life that could've been. A shadow crossed the room. Quinn's headlights leaving the property sealed that they were now completely alone.

"Grandpa?"

Long pause. "What?"

"Play the '1812 Overture'."

An even longer moment passed before the old Russian placed the record on the stereo and the familiar, beautiful strings could be heard. Dave Sr. retreated back into the kitchen, grabbed the Stolichnaya and returned to his chair. Dave Jr. merely sat down.

No one talked. No one moved. The few lamps that were turned on put them in a cast of gloom that neither wanted to admit existed. Out of habit, Dave Jr. checked his cell phone for more texts. When he saw there were none, he simply moved his eyes along the baseboards, noting that he would have to vacuum soon.

"Grandpa?"

He took a swig right from the bottle. "Yeah?"

"What do I do?"

A long sigh escaped his lungs along with a harsh series of coughs. "I…I don't know, boy."

"I…I can't go back home." Dave Jr. said, rubbing his fingers over his thumbnail. "I mean…" his voice quivered, "she hates me."

"No, she doesn't."

"I've been kicked out."

"You'll always have a home here. Or with your grandma."

"I just…" Dave Jr. stood up just as the soaring French horns played, "I _KNOW_ I'll be OK…I guess. I just… I don't know."

The old man shifted on his sore hip. Another round of coughs. Yet another clutch to his heart. And then, he said, "Then, maybe you should hear the rest of my story." Dave Jr. said nothing. "It might help."

"Sure. Fine."

Suddenly, the boy jolted at the smash of glass on the wall! Vodka dribbled down the wall and with incredible speed, the old man was up at at him!

 _"YOU WILL BE FINE, BOY! DON'T YOU KNOW THE ADVANTAGES YOU HAVE NOW?! YOU CAN BE WHO YOU ARE WHEN I COULDN'T!"_

Dave Jr. just stared up at him. Almost instantly, the old Russian turned and hobbled into the kitchen. A few seconds later, he returned with two shot glasses and another bottle of vodka. Dave Jr. didn't dare say a word.

He poured two shots. "You are so lucky, Dave…"

"Um, beg your pardon?"

He handed his grandson a shot. "You have…" he 'skoaled' and downed the shot. "You have Kevin. Don't let him go."

Dave Jr. swallowed his shot. "I…I won't."

"Then listen, boy. And like I said before, don't let go of things you're _TOLD_ you should. You'll…" he looked away, "regret it." Dave Jr. went silent and the Overture turned violent. "So, where was I? Oh yes. The kiss. Well, what happens next is ugly and maybe we should save that for when Kevin comes tomorrow…"

"Grandpa!"

"Oh, shut up, boy." He said, getting up. "In fact, I'm…I'm not feeling well. I'm going to bed. When Kevin gets here tomorrow, we'll continue this story. Good night, boy."

"Good night, grandpa."

Dave Sr. left. Dave Jr. turned the stereo off. And all the lights went out for the night.

.

 **AN: Thank you all for reading. Let me know your thoughts.-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: HELLO EVERYBODY!**

 **I am so happy with the reviews, favorites, and follows to this story! This story is an important one for me and I'm so glad you like it! Thanks to all of you for your reviews and suggestions!**

 **We've jumped back to the Vietnam War here in this chapter. We see Dave, Kurt, and a blast from their past. I think you'll like it!**

 **So, enjoy the chapter and please review. Please be kind.**

 **WARNING - this is a war chapter. It gets intense here. You have been warned.**

 **HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3**

 **Chapter 10**

Over the course of the next several months, it seemed like Dave was there for Kurt. And then, when communications broke down or mortar fire was heavy, Kurt was crucial in getting Dave out.

They barely had time to adjust to the heat and humidity of Vietnam – an oppression that was far worse than communism. Some nights, they'd be near each other, but their eyes would be trained forward. Kurt would see Quinn's letters in Dave's shirt pocket and stare at them. Other nights, he'd use his assault rifle to get them some fresh water. Who knew you could get trenchfoot in hot weather?

And their unit advanced – very, very slowly. The jungles were a series of killer insects, trip wires, hateful heat, and passionate glances. They weren't the only ones there, of course, but they were brothers in arms. And they resolved to get out.

During the day, their days were marked by advancements, some fighting, some in-fighting, and ORE food. But at night, when other patrols were watching the enemy, they found themselves lonelier than ever. One evening, they were stuck in a makeshift foxhole and were waiting for orders. They were lying down nearly side by side, and Dave noticed Kurt was stroking his hip from time to time. The singer took notice.

"What?"

"What's wrong?" Dave asked. Their voices were hushed.

"Nothing." Kurt answered, putting his hand back on his gun.

"Bullshit, nothing."

Kurt looked over at the bigger boy and saw the concern in his eyes. Beyond, the moon shone brilliantly over what must've been the South China Sea and his focus shifted there for a long while. Dissatisfied, Dave scooted closer.

"You get hit?" Dave asked.

"No."

"Then, why-?"

"I'm fine!" Kurt hissed through gritted teeth.

"OK. Sorry."

Time passed. Gunfire could be heard in the distance as well as some screaming. It was something you just had to get used to in war and the boys seemingly adjusted. And as the evening wore on, they would hear the rest of their platoon setting up nearby. Communications were stronger now and they knew that this location was more secure.

"You should go to the infirmary." Dave said.

"No."

"Kurrrrrrrt!"

Kurt rolled towards him. This wasn't unusual in war. You often had to get in very close proximity to your brothers or you were dead. But then, he exposed part of his hip and Dave swallowed, looking down.

"See?" Kurt said, pulling his beltline back up. "It's just a bruise."

"It might not be."

Kurt chuckled. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Fury."

Dave's voice shifted. "I'm not trying to."

Kurt looked over and noticed how Dave was staring so hard, so intently that it shook him to the core. Only inches apart, they could feel each other's breath on their necks, their body odor mixed, and hands were so, so close.

"If you don't go…" Dave began. And that's when a grin with WAY too many teeth filled his face. "I'll just have to make you go."

"Dave?" Kurt warningly asked.

He suddenly grabbed the lithe guy and handily lifted him up!

"Dave! Stop! I said I'm fine!"

"No, you're going!"

Dave drug Kurt along the path and Kurt decided he'd had enough. Suddenly, Dave doubled over and grabbed his lower back.

"Dammit, Kurt! Why…" he gasped for air. "Why a kidney punch?"

"I told you, I'm fine!" Immediately, Kurt turned and went back to his foxhole.

The bigger boy accepted his defeat and went back to join him.

"You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did, Dave. You wouldn't stop. I'm fine!"

Finally, their bickering caught the attention of someone nearby. "Oh, look guys! A lover's quarrel!"

Kurt and Dave looked up to see the unit laughing at them and none other than Arthur Abrams, AKA Tech, smiling at them.

"Tech! You son of a bitch!" Kurt yelled.

"That's right, girls. And I'm here to get you two married."

"Knock it off, Abrams." Dave warned. Kurt glared at him for a second and then returned to him.

"We had," Kurt began, from his seated position, "no idea that you were here!"

"Just got here a few days ago. They were afraid I'd eat too much pussy at the base."

"You mean," Dave said, "that you'd give them the clap."

Others around them laughed. And when Kurt turned and smiled up at him, the little dispute about going to the infirmary looked like it was behind them.

"What's the charly?" Tech asked, changing the subject.

"We don't know and don't care." Kurt answered. "We're just happy to have a nice, peaceful evening here in lovely Vietnam."

"Yup," Dave added, "here with blood, guts, and gore."

"Shut up, Dave!" Kurt exclaimed. They shared a good-natured laugh.

But Tech genuinely smiled, a ghastly experience. With a lowered voice, he said, "You two need to be more careful."

"What?" Dave and Kurt asked.

"You two. You're obviously…" Tech never finished. Instead, Abrams got up and left them. Dave and Kurt were silent the rest of the night.

.

Several more months passed. No one really knew the exact date – it wasn't needed. Besides, when you're half a world away from home, the only date that matters is the date you get back there. So, when the familiar 'mail call' was sounded, everybody ran to the jeep with excitement.

Dave walked off with a couple of letters and Kurt soon joined him, waving one in his hand. Not too far off, Arthur also had a letter. And not even a minute later, a hushed silence fell on the compound as news from loved ones at home filled their minds. It was almost eerie, despite the gunfire in the distance.

Dave and Kurt sat in the shade under some shrapnel netting and Arthur sat away from them. Minutes passed and sad smiles crossed their faces.

"Did you get a letter from your dad?" Dave asked.

"Yes! You?"

"Quinn."

"Of course, you did." Then, he turned his attention to Tech. "Arthur? You?"

"My fiancée." He was still reading his. So, Kurt turned his attention back to his friend.

"So, what's the good news from home, Dave?"

"You first."

"OK!" Kurt eagerly said. "Well, my dad is doing well in his shop. Business is up and he's trying to expand to the other side of town. He wants to even set up something with my old high school, McKinley, to have students intern!" Dave's eyes widened and he smiled. "And then, dad mentioned that he's going on a…date."

"A date?"

"Yeah."

"Um, OK."

Kurt half-smiled. "My mom died when I was seven. My dad's been single ever since. But he describes," holding up the letter, "a woman named Carole who's a nurse. Says she's nice and…" Kurt laughed out loud! "purdy."

"Why is that funny?"

"He misspelled 'pretty'!"

"Oh, I see!"

They shared a good-natured laugh after that. Suddenly, Kurt turned to Dave. "So, what news from Quinn?"

"Well," he shifted on his hip, which was a little sore, "she's still taking classes at Ohio State. She's a college girl." Kurt catcalled a little and Dave teasingly elbowed him. "And she wishes I were back home. She also met a guy named…"

"Who?"

"Huh. I just now noticed that he's not named. She just says he's nice." Dave frowned.

"Dave, I'm sure she knows what she's doing."

"Yeah…"

Kurt elbowed Dave's shin. "Dave, you can't protect her for the rest of your life."

"I know that! I just…"

Kurt knowingly smiled and turned his attention back to Arthur. "Tech? Any good news from home."

"Yeah…" Tech distractedly answered. "Yeah…" Suddenly, he got up, letter in hand, and walked away. Kurt watched him go and when he looked up at Dave, he knew the _REAL_ answer to that question.

Later, after letters were read and reread and reread and reread, Dave and Kurt found themselves trying to enjoy powdered milk and some kind of yeasty bread or something. Arthur joined them. Dave and Kurt watched Arthur carefully, who hadn't said much since getting a letter from his fiancé.

"Arthur?" Kurt asked, seated next to Dave. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah. Fine." He picked at his combat boots and said nothing further. Kurt turned his attention back to Dave, who was checking out something through a scope.

"See anything?" Kurt asked.

"No… Thought I did, though."

"Hmmm."

Kurt turned his attention back to Arthur. "Come over here, Arthur. We have some shit on a shingle that you might like. Dave found some good hot sauce."

"No, thanks."

Kurt could see and feel the defeat in his voice. So, he scooted over towards Tech and whispered something in his ear. And when he did, Arthur lowered his head and seemed to shake or something. Dave looked down. He tried to give them the privacy they deserved.

" _INCOMING! GET DOWN!"_

Mortars exploded around them. Smoke choked the air and Dave couldn't find Kurt or Tech!

"Kurt! Kurt!" He yelled. Guys screamed around him and gunfire was returned. But another mortar blast rocked their world and Dave landed flat on his back!

Dave rolled on the ground toward where he could find any safety whatsoever. Finally, he found Kurt.

"Kurt! What the fuck-?!"

"I don't know! Help me with Tech!"

Dave looked down and nearly vomited. A leg was gone and the bleeding wouldn't stop.

"Sneak attackin' commie _sonsaBITCHES_!" Dave yelled. He tried to scoop Arthur Abrams and carry him somewhere safe. Unfortunately, another nearby blast rocked them back to the ground and Kurt yelled in pain!

 _"KURRRRRT!"_

"I…I'm OK! Get Arthur!"

And when Dave looked back, he knew Abrams would be wheelchair-bound for the rest of his life.

"Grab his legs!" Dave said without thinking. Kurt complied and had to look away as more smoke filled their lungs.

"Infirmary!" Kurt yelled amongst the confusion. And without even really hearing him, Dave headed right there.

Around them, the unit started advancing and the smoke seemed to get a little worse. Some supplies were on fire and some bloody men weren't moving. But as Dave and Kurt carried Tech away, the attack began to slow down. The boys didn't care – adrenalin had taken over and they were on a mission: Save Tech no matter what.

Finally, they reached one of the triage units and the medical personnel helped carry Tech inside. And as the medical team prepared for surgery, Abrams held on to Kurt's hand.

"Don't…"

Kurt smiled and slightly tightened his grip. "Don't worry, Arthur. I'm not going anywhere." Dave ran off to get some supplies for the surgery.

"N-no!" Arthur muttered, wide-eyed and eyes going into shock. "Don't…l-leave…" His eyes closed momentarily.

"I'm not going anywhere Tech!"

"N-no!" He took a deep breath. "D-d-donn't…l-l-le-leave…D-dav…"

Arthur lost consciousness. Kurt let go of his hand and the surgical team ran all around the injured soldier. Dave returned and walked up to Kurt.

"Is he gonna be OK?" Dave asked.

Kurt, looking at the mangled body of one of the bravest and stupidest men he'd ever met, shook his head and said he didn't know.

.

 **AN: Thank you all for reading. Let me know what you all think?-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Thank you SO MUCH for the support on ALL my stories! :)**

 **The reviews bring me SO MUCH joy! :)**

 **Your support means EVERYTHING TO ME. :)**

 **On to the story- We are back with Dave Sr., Dave Jr (Or Jr. whichever you prefer?) and Kevin.**

 **Things get tense here.**

 **All I'll say for now.**

 **Sidenote: I dont know how long this story will be? I was thinking a few more chapters or maybe longer? Im not sure?**

 **So I'll ask you all. Do you prefer longer chapters or a short story? You will really be helping me a lot. Thank you! :)**

 **Please review. Please be kind. :)**

 **Enjoy!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

 **Chapter 11**

"So, whatever happened to him?"

"Well," Dave Sr. began, getting up from his chair, "right after the war, I'm not exactly sure." He crossed the room and set two shot glasses in between Dave Jr. and Kevin. "But later, I know that his grandson got in a car accident. He's in a wheelchair too, I guess."

"I think I know him…" Kevin whispered.

"Huh?!" The old man asked. "You have to speak up, boy."

"I said, I think I know him."

"You do?" Dave Jr. asked.

"Well, Dave, there aren't that many kids our age in wheelchairs at school. But yes, I think I know him."

"Oh yeah. I know of him."

Then, Kevin wondrously stared at the old veteran. "And you were in Vietnam with his grandfather?"

"Apparently so."

Dave Sr. poured the shots and gave them one each. Then, he returned to his chair with a loud harrumph. The Karofskys 'skoaled!' and chugged their shot glasses. But Kevin knew better and sipped. It was the respectful thing to do, but he didn't like the bitterness of the alcohol. He took a moment to look around the living room and noticed that there was no music.

"Mr. Karofsky?"

"What? And it's Dave."

"OK, Dave." Kevin said, after a little wink to his boyfriend, "No music tonight?"

The old veteran stroked that god-awful scar that covered his face and after a moment's thought, went to the record player. Behind the old man's back, Dave Jr. winked back at his boyfriend. Kevin smiled and took another sip of the disgusting vodka. It was absolutely no surprise to anyone when the '1812 Overture' sang from the speakers.

Kevin closed his eyes and fell into the gorgeous opening strings as Dave Sr. sat back down. Those delicate notes that ached along sent him into his own little world and he even conducted in the air a little. That's when he opened his eyes and noticed a pair of Russian descent eyes staring at him.

Embarrassed, Kevin smiled and looked down. His boyfriend elbowed him and they shared a smile. But when they looked up, their smiles dropped. Dave Sr. was staring holes into Kevin and it shook the kid to the core. And yet, even with the intensity, Kevin could see that Dave Sr. was lost in memories or something.

"Dave?" Kevin asked. "Are you OK?"

He seemed to snap out of it and coughed some. "Huuuuuh?!"

"I asked, are you-?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." He coughed once more and then added, "Now where was I with this story?"

"Before I interrupted with a selfish request for music…" Kevin morosely said.

"Kevin!" Dave Jr. said, looking at him. "It's always OK to have music."

"That's right, boy." Dave Sr. said, addressing Kevin. "And you were right. All houses should have music…"

Kevin narrowed his eyes a little as the old man rubbed that ugly, deep scar along his face. The first of the trumpets sounded on the stereo and Kevin was suddenly lost in the world of classical music again. That's the wonderful thing about music – it can transport you worlds away just with one note.

"So!" Dave Sr. loudly began, getting the boys' attention, "Tech was honorably discharged from the war. How and why he settled in Ohio is beyond me, but he did. I ran into him a few years after I returned." And then, he chuckled along with a long cough, "Of course, he was still a giant asshole."

The boys snickered. But the old Russian cackled with a deep-throated laugh that overtook the house. Dave Jr. hadn't heard his grandpa laugh this way before and it very much pleased him. And Kevin? Well, he blended the laughter with the incredible French horns that began playing.

"Had it not been for Tech," Dave Sr. said, looking at his empty shot glass, "I don't think Kurt and I could've ever…" Kevin and Dave Jr. sat forward. They were finally about to hear more about this mysterious Kurt and they were on the edge of their seats! "I need another shot, boys." He got up amongst a chorus of little frustrations from two teenage mouths. The old veteran left the room for another bottle of Stolichnaya.

"Dave?" Kevin whispered to his boyfriend. "Who's Kurt?"

"He was grandpa's first love."

"His what?!"

"I didn't know either!"

By that point, Dave Sr. returned, twisting the cap on yet another bottle of vodka.

"Dave?" Kevin asked.

"What?" Dave Sr. responded, sitting down again.

"Do you think…?"

"What?"

"Well, you drink…"

"Yeah? So?" He poured himself a shot.

"Do you think maybe you…" Kevin partially looked away. "shouldn't?"

Dave Jr. just glared at him. But across the way, the elderly Karofsky just laughed.

"My God, boy!" He even slapped his knee! "You remind me so much of Kurt."

"Really?"

"Really?" Dave Jr. asked.

"Oh yes." Dave Sr. answered. "He didn't like me drinking my vodka very much either. But he tolerated it and joined in plenty of aparativs." And then, his face dropped. "But listen, Kevin. I'm a 62-year old war veteran. I think I've earned my right to drink and I won't have it questioned in my house again."

"OK. Sorry." Kevin sheepishly said. Dave Jr. looked down.

"That's alright, boy. I know you're trying to help…"

"Speaking of helping," the boy began, standing up, "do you need anything done around here-?"

"No. Sit down." The boy did just that. "I'm not done telling you about Kurt."

 _THAT_ got their attention.

"So, after Tech left," Dave Sr. started, "Kurt and I fought in what you now call skirmishes. Oh God, it was ugly…" He wiped his hairy jaw. "And Kurt and I got…closer."

"Closer?" Kevin asked. Dave Jr. glared at his boyfriend and then looked back at his grandpa.

"Oh yes. Closer. That's what you do in war. But it was more than that. See, Kurt was gonna be a big Broadway star."

"No way!" Kevin exclaimed.

"Oh yes."

"Really?"

"I said, yes."

Kevin opened his mouth again but Dave Jr. shook his head to shut up. Kevin did just that. Meanwhile, the first of the cannons blasted on the stereo and Dave Jr. knew what that meant. He kept a careful eye on his grandfather and, as expected, the old veteran's entire demeanor changed.

"Grandpa," Dave Jr. carefully said, "we don't have to continue if you don't want to."

Kevin looked at his boyfriend with half-hearted betrayal. But finally, they both noticed the old Russian was struggling – eyes closed, teeth clenched, vodka bottle shaking. And that's when the empty shot glass in his old, weathered hand cracked.

"Grandpa!" Dave Jr. roared, standing up. "Are you alright?"

"Yes…yes…I'm fine."

Kevin immediately ran to the kitchen. Dave Jr. removed the broken glass and the old man started the Overture again.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, grandpa?!"

"Because it's important, boy!" Then, he peered around the room. "Where's that boy?"

"I'm here." Kevin said, coming in with a cloth and new shot glass. "I'm here. Give it to me, Dave." Dave Sr. handed the cracked glass and Kevin checked his hand for cuts. He even pulled it over towards the lamp and gave it a closer inspection. Both Daves just stared at Kevin, astonished by the kid's quick thinking.

"I think," Kevin said, "that you'll be OK. Just…please be careful."

"Yes, sir." Dave Sr. begrudgingly said and pulled his hand back down. Kevin set the new glass down on a nearby table and went back to his seat.

"I'm sorry, boys."

"What for?" Dave Jr. asked.

"I love this Overture, but those damn cannons…"

Kevin watched them, a little unsure what to do or say. Finally, he thought of something. "Why not tell us more of Kurt?"

Dave Jr. wildly turned and fiercely glared at his boyfriend. Kevin mouthed the word 'what?' and that was it. Meanwhile, Dave Sr. nodded.

"Yes, you're right, Kevin. And I will. And I don't mean to drag it out." Then, he motioned to Kevin. "Put on some Stravinsky, will you?"

Kevin went to the record player and put 'The Rite of Spring' on the player. A much calmer and even more beautiful song bellowed from the speakers and Dave Sr. closed his eyes.

"Kurt finally killed someone." The boys stared at him but didn't say anything. Finally, Dave Sr. opened his eyes, saw their open-mouthed expressions, and rubbed his eyes. "Oh yes. He finally killed…"

"Who?" Kevin asked.

"The enemy. It was a commie." Then he glared at the kid. "It was war, kid. And like I said before, war changes you." He grew wistful suddenly. "It…changed him. It effected him. Kurt was never the same after that. We were outflanked in a lagoon and Kurt had more ammo than I did. He took out the first one he could see and then a patrol boat scared the enemy off. Kurt went silent for a long time after that. I wasn't sure what to do…" Then, he looked at them both. "But one thing was clear. I regretted _NOT_ doing something. Kurt could've used compassion and I had none. He probably could've been held or something and I just sat there like a dumb bump on a log. And I will never…" his lips quivered a little, "forgive myself for abandoning him."

Kevin slowly stood up, his own innocent, youthful eyes staring into the old man's. Dave Jr. simply watched. Then, the young boy kneeled in front of him.

"You did what you could. And…" he braved reaching for Dave Karofsky Sr.'s hand, "you were there for him."

"My God." Dave Sr. whispered. "You are soooo much like him…"

"Is that," Kevin said with some levity, "a compliment or an insult?"

With sudden speed, the old veteran pulled himself up and MUCH closer to Kevin.

"It…is… _VERY_ …much…a compliment."

Kevin shook a little and Dave Jr. just watched in amazement. The strings grew louder on the stereo and Dave Sr. reached for the Stolichnaya.

"Just…" Kevin began, "how about more Stravinsky instead of Tchaikovsky?"

Dave Sr. looked up into this kid's eyes, this innocent boy who'd never seen war or bloody body parts or the sheer hate in this world. "OK."

And when Kevin sat back down, he didn't even feel the evil, penetrating glares from his boyfriend.

So, as the incredible strings played out on the stereo, Dave Sr. regaled more stories from the war, from Kurt, who eventually recovered some of his original personality, and even about Quinn. Kevin laughed at the old man's drunken orneriness and Dave Jr. seemed pleased with how well they were getting along. As the night wore on though, yawns escaped Dave Sr.'s mouth and Kevin easily picked up on it.

"I should probably go." Kevin said.

"Yeah," Dave Sr. began, "and I'm tired too."

"Kevin?" Dave Jr. asked, "Can you wait on the porch for me?"

"I'll be fine Dave. You don't have to walk me home."

The younger Karofsky's tone of voice shifted. "I know."

Both Kevin and the old veteran knew something was going to be said later. The boy simply nodded.

"Play nice, boys. I'm going to bed."

Suddenly, the old man felt a hand on his wrist. "Mr. Karofsky?"

"I said, it's Dave."

"Not this time!"

THAT got their attention and they turned to face this boy who craned his neck to even make eye contact.

"Thank you for opening up tonight about Kurt. I know…I know I would've liked to meet him. He seemed incredible."

"He was, boy. He was." Dave Sr. even braved a little bit of a smile. "Now, I'm off to bed." And when he reached the landing of the stairs, he said, "Don't kill each other." And with that, he disappeared up the stairs.

"Tonight," Dave Jr. said to Kevin, "I'm gonna make sure he gets upstairs and to bed OK. Wait for me." He didn't even see Kevin nod.

A few minutes later, Dave Jr. found Kevin on the front porch. Even with his back to him, he could see his boyfriend's blonde hair shimmer in the moonlight.

"What the hell was that?!"

Kevin turned around and saw the angry eyes of his boyfriend. "What?"

Dave took a few steps closer to him. "If my grandpa wants to drink vodka, he will. And if he-"

"Yeah," Kevin angrily began, "and alcohol is a vaso-dilator. It will shrink his damaged lungs, knock out his heart, and eat up his liver!"

"He's earned his life! He's infected with Agent Orange! He did things I hope to _GOD_ we never have to do! And not only that, but if he opens up to us about Kurt, it's on his terms. Not yours! And if he wants-"

"Oh, I'm sorry! See, I thought your grandpa was struggling to remember those memories. I know they're painful and I was only trying to help."

"Help?! You gave him more grief! And if he's gonna listen to the goddamn '1812 Overture', he's gonna listen to the goddamn '1812 Overture'!"

"Even when it causes him _MORE_ pain?!"

" _YES_!"

"So, there's nothing I could say that would make the least bit of difference?"

 _"NO!"_

"Well, then, ask yourself something, you stubborn Russian! Why did _HE_ want _ME_ there tonight?!"

Dave's self-righteous behavior came to a grinding halt. He thought for a second but didn't want to answer. So, Kevin just shook his head, walking backwards down the steps.

"I'm gonna relish," the angry boy began, "you trying to figure that out."

"I don't know why for sure!" Dave Jr. said, following him down the steps. "I just know that was hard for him and he didn't need you babying him!"

"Babying him? Babying _HIM?!_ Look at him! You are _JUST LIKE HIM!"_

"No, I'm not!"

"A stubborn Russian _FOOL_ to the fucking last, David Karofsky!"

"Yeah?! Well, then that just goes to show that you don't care about him." And then, Dave roared. " _OR MEEEE!"_

Instant regret showered Dave when he saw the hurt in the boy's eyes. Kevin simply looked away.

"That's right, Dave. That's right. I don't care."

"No, Kevin. Look, I'm-"

"No, that's fine!" the angry singer said, backing away. "Don't worry. If you don't want to face that _YOUR_ grandpa sees Kurt and himself IN _US_ , that's up to you. But don't you dare, don't you _FUCKING DARE_ say that I don't care!"

"No! That's not what I-!"

"Good night, Dave. Go make sure your grandpa is fine. _BECAUSE I WILL BE!"_

Kevin stormed away down the path. Dave kneeled down, clasping his hands behind his head. A fierce annoyed growl escaped his mouth – the roar of frustration that comes with love. And then, he simply turned, opened the screen door and went back inside.

And on the second floor of the house, Dave Sr. was lying in bed.

And smiling.

.

 **AN: Please don't hate me. This NEEDED to happen. Anyway I hope you enjoyed. Thank you all for everything.x3-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: HI EVERYBODY!**

 **What's this?! Two chapters in ONE DAY?!**

 **Happy Birthday! Even though its probably not your birthday. Lol :)**

 **Your support for this story is really helping me with my writing! Thank you ALL! Your comments, favorites, and follows are so, so HELPFUL! LOL!**

 **In this chapter, we're back in Vietnam. Kurt and Dave seem to be getting along and then, of course, something goes wrong. Don't worry - it's not too violent.**

 **ENJOY! Please review. Please be kind. HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3**

 **Chapter 12**

"I already told you, Kurt."

They were walking along the perimeter of the compound. The heat wasn't letting up and Dave and Kurt were checking out for any supply trucks that may need in the front gates. And besides, since there was nothing to do, they might as well have taken in some sunshine. But it wasn't perfect. They always seemed to have smoky, metallic tastes in their mouth and they could never seem to get enough water. All around them, guys were either high, depressed or hungry.

But Dave and Kurt seemed isolated from them. Sure, they were all brothers together fighting communism but the boys simply stuck by each other's sides. And in reality, it didn't seem like either of them minded. Not one bit.

"Really? Still, Dave? After all of this?"

"All of what?"

They came to a stop near the main gate and checked in with their call signals to the guard. He opened the gate and the boys were free to stroll the grounds as long as they didn't wind up _AWOL_.

Or dead.

"I mean," Kurt said kicking some dirt on the path they walked, "you STILL want to just be alone? For, like, the rest of your life."

Dave looked down, "Yeah. It's easier."

"It might be easier, but you never know what can happen in life."

"Mmmm."

Gunfire in the distance. Black smoke to the west. And two boys who couldn't figure anything out to save their lives.

"What about Quinn?" Kurt asked, coming to a stop.

"What about her?"

"Well," the singing soldier resumed walking and Dave kept in step, "she may have other plans…with you."

"Oh, I doubt that. Remember my letter from her? She…met someone."

"True. But you just never know."

"Kurt," Dave said turning in front of the short guy, "where's all this coming from?"

A chopper flew low over them. They looked up, shielding their eyes from the sun and stirred up dust. And when that distraction was over, Kurt found Dave staring at him intently.

"I just…You're a good guy, Dave. I think you deserve better."

"Me, huh?" They resumed walking on the path.

"Yeah, you. Why not? I mean, you're incredibly protective and supportive. And you always seem to have a-"

Suddenly, Dave's hand brushed against Kurt's and everything went silent. Not even an insect chirped. They continued walking in silence. But another few more steps went by and hands almost connected again. And when that happened, fingers lingered and gently swiped on skin. The sun beat down on them, they were about a mile away from the compound, and they couldn't seem to stop touching each other – by accident, of course.

"Let's go there." Dave said, pointing to the brush.

"In there?"

"Yeah."

"What about snipers?"

"This place has been secure for weeks now, Kurt. It's…" he stared down into those stunning azure eyes, "safe."

Kurt seemed transfixed for a second and then abruptly walked towards the jungle. Dave followed.

As soon as they were in the protective cover of the wide, bamboo leaves, Kurt snatched Dave's hand into his. And the big guy squeezed. Neither were letting go. They must've walked in circles for at least another half a mile before they finally sat down against a tree.

Dave pulled out his canteen and offered some to Kurt. Kurt shook his head no and Dave took a drink of the metallic water anyway. They were boots and saddles again – hip to hip, lying against a foreign tree in a foreign land that they wanted out of. But in that moment, they were content and happy.

"We probably can't stay here for long." Kurt said.

"I know. We're supposed to be patrolling the perimeter."

"Well, at least we know it's safe!" Kurt laughed, joined in quickly by Dave.

"Yeah, safe from commies!" Dave kept laughing. But Kurt suddenly went serious. He stared into those hazel eyes of the big Russian who wouldn't stop staring back. The heat oppressed around them and their heartrates went up. Kurt gently touched Dave's full cheeks and Dave twisted his shoulders to get his arms around the little guy. And when lips connected, there were no one in that godforsaken country who could've stopped them.

Their heads shifted as the kiss went on and on. Dave's arms tightened and Kurt sighed a little. Dave moaned as Kurt moved to Dave's neck, placing little kisses there and the big guy's eyes closed. They were a cocoon of passion that wasn't ending any time soon.

Finally, Dave pulled back and kissed Kurt's neck. But HIS kisses were harder. Deeper. Full of need and want. Kurt moaned aloud and stroked Dave's back. Their guns fell from their holsters and Kurt pulled Dave even closer, fighting off the urge to explode right then and there. The kissing went on and on and finally, Dave pulled back, panting. They were so, so close to each other and neither wanted it to end!

But duty called.

Their radios went off. Kurt groaned and checked in. After a few seconds of codetalk, Kurt placed the radio back on his belt.

"We have to get back."

Dave growled and adjusted himself. Kurt giggled. And the two of them stood up. But before they left, Dave grabbed Kurt's shoulders and held him firmly. Kurt stared up and received one more long kiss before they headed out of the jungle and back to their posts.

They checked back in at the gate and were let in. Once again, the boring, monotonous routine of patrolling started up. The sun was getting lower in the sky and they were bored out of their minds. But they were together. At least that's something.

"Did you get anymore letters?" Kurt abruptly asked.

"No. You?"

"No."

"Mmm."

More codetalk on radios. More screams, dust, and gunfire in the distance. More of everything that you never need reminded of in war.

"Does the commissary work today?" Dave asked.

"Not sure."

"Mmm."

They reached the end of their patrolling area, turned and started back again. Kurt looked straight forward and Dave used some binoculars to look in the trees.

"Are they having rice in the canteen today?"

"I think so."

"Good."

More patrolling.

"Did you hear that Nixon resigned?"

"No."

"Mmm."

Still…more patrolling. The sun was setting. And when they reached the south end of their area, a finger brushed against another.

"When will this stupid war end?"

"Don't ask that, Kurt."

"Why not?"

"Because…it makes it more difficult to even be here."

"Mmm."

They finished their shift in silence.

Later they were in the canteen eating rice with hot sauce and something…brown. Dave was devouring his food while Kurt merely picked at it.

"What?" Dave asked, mouth full of food.

Kurt looked up. "Huh?"

"I know the food is lousy but it's all we've got."

"Oh! Oh no, it's fine." He took as bite of the rice.

Dave watched him closely. Kurt's right hand seemed to shake. He remembered the last time Kurt used that hand recently.

"Are you OK, Kurt?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Dave sighed. "I just remember how I was the first time I killed a commie."

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

Kurt immediately got up and left. Dave gulped more of the sticky disgusting rice in his mouth and immediately followed. It took him a little while to find Kurt, who was down by the beachhead.

"Kurt! I'm sorry. I just now how it fucked up-"

"Dave! I said I'm fine and don't want to talk about it."

"OK, OK…" And then, Dave stepped right in front of Kurt's vision and added, "but if you ever do, I'll-"

"Goddammit! I said I'm fine! I'm not some pussy willow, Dave!"

Kurt immediately regretted what he said when he saw the hurt look on his face. He placed a hand to his forehead.

"Dave, what are we doing?"

"Huh?"

"I mean it. What are…" he took a step closer, away from peering eyes, "WE doing?"

"We're…fighting."

"I know that! I mean… _YOU_ know what I mean."

Dave looked away. "I…I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No."

"Well, I do."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

Kurt dared to take a step closer to him and Dave's eyes went wide. Seeing the alarm in the bigger guy's face, he stepped right back.

"Dave, when I see, when I _WANT_ something, I go for it. And we've…we've got something…between us."

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do! I know we do! And…you mean a lot to me."

"Stop it, Kurt."

"And why? Why? Why should I?!"

Their voices were getting louder and louder and they weren't even completely alone. Dave flipped his head around a few times and grabbed Kurt's arm.

"Not here."

Suddenly, Kurt found himself being dragged away from eyes, away from potential snipers, and away from the war itself. They wound up near a triage unit, in the darkened shadows of the night.

"Now," Dave said, releasing the kid, "what the hell-?"

"Have you heard about Tech?"

Dave swatted at a mosquito and seemed stunned by the change in subject. "No. What?"

"He's being shipped home. Medical discharge." Kurt looked away. "He'll never walk again."

"But, he could get a prosthetic-"

"No, he can't. His hips and pelvis took too much mortar. He's paralyzed from the waist down."

"Dammit…"

"Yeah…"

Dave had his hands on his hips and Kurt still wasn't looking at him. Around them, guys were laughing, sharing good stories of their wives or girlfriends or home. Some were playing cards and others were doing drugs. And the entire time, no one knew that two boys where facing one of the biggest challenges of their lives.

"I can't wait to leave here." Kurt muttered.

"Me too."

"With you."

"With…me?"

"Yeah, you! You're…" Kurt braved a step closer. "I don't wanna leave here without you."

"Kurt, what are you saying?"

"Dave, you don't have to be alone when we go back to Ohio."

Dave groaned and turned away. "Yes, I do Kurt."

"But you don't have to! And…" Kurt walked around and in front of him, "I want to be with you."

"And what about what I want?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You heard me! We can't do…whatever it is we're doing!"

"Why not?"

"Because! We…can't!"

"Because some government told us we're sick?" Kurt's eyes glossed over. "Because we could be deformed like Tech? Because you can't figure out what you want? Or is it because…you're scared?"

"No! Yes! I don't know!"

"Yes, you do!"

" _NO, I DON'T!"_

"I love you, David."

And there it was. No hesitation, no pause, no enemy gunfire, no stupid war to interrupt the statement. And Dave just stared down at him, exasperated for air suddenly, staring into the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen. Kurt could see the conflict and held Dave's arms.

"I…" Dave began, coughed, and cleared his throat. "I…l-loveyoutoo."

Kurt's eyes widened! "Then let's get the fuck out of here and live the rest-!"

 _"NO!_ We can't! I can't!"

"So, when this is all over, you're just gonna, what? Leave? Never talk to me again? Never feel what you feel again because of what _OTHERS_ might say?!"

Dave said nothing.

"Look, Dave. We've risked enough already just by being who we are. And we'll get out of this _ALIVE!_ Together! I don't want to be without you here!"

"I want you here too." Dave childishly said.

"Then, all that's left." Kurt softened his grip and stroked Dave's round shoulders, "is for us to build our lives back in Ohio. Together."

"And what about New York?"

Kurt's head flashed a bit. "I…I don't know."

"So, you'd be willing to give up your life and your dream? For what? Me?"

Kurt turned and started walking away. "Yeah… At least, I thought I did…"

Dave watched him go. And somewhere on his way back to the United States, Tech Abrams was probably smiling.

Dave's heart ached for the boy as he watched him walking away. Kurt was only about ten yards away from him but he might as well have been on the moon.

That's when something stung Dave's arm. He turned and looked at his left bicep and saw the blood. His eyes widened!

"Snipers!" Dave yelled, running towards Kurt. The boy flipped his head and a spatter of gunfire rained around them. They ran, nearly hand in hand, back towards the unit screaming 'snipers!' over and over. Men grabbed their guns, spotlights flashed towards the jungle, and Kurt and Dave ran for their lives together.

.

 **AN: More to come... Thank you for reading. Let me know if you liked it. Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Thank you all for the support! :)**

 **Seven followers! Yay! :)**

 **I appreciate you all. :)**

 **I decided that this will be a long story. :)**

 **Thank you guys for giving your opinion when I was struggling with what to do.**

 **I feel as though this story needs to be told properly, so sit back and enjoy the long rollercoaster ride of emotions this story will bring.**

 **Thank you to the anonymous reviewer that helped me make this decision.**

 **OK- on to the story. We back where chapter 11 ended. In the present, with Kevin and Dave Jr. still fighting.**

 **All I'll say. I'm trying not to spoil it anymore for you guys! Lol ;)**

 **Please review. Please be kind.**

 **Enjoy!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

 **Chapter 13**

Dave Sr. hadn't seen his grandson crying in a long time. The poor kid came home from school and wasn't talking. He looked incredibly sad and moved slowly. Once, the old veteran had to get on him about not bringing a socket wrench when he needed it. The boy just soundlessly grabbed it and gave it to him.

Later, they did the usual – '1812 Overture', aparativs, cooking. Dave Jr. made Spanakopita that would make their ancestors proud. The pastry pockets of delicious spinach and onions was an unusual choice for the meat-loving guys, but sometimes, vegetarian dishes are just fine.

And when they sat down in the living room with more music and vodka, Dave Jr. did something he'd never done before – he pulled out some homework. The old man watched him using a calculator and writing furiously on a notebook. He could see the kid's furrowed eyebrows and gave him the peace to finish his schoolwork, while more horns sounded through the stereo. A nearby lamp flickered a little, which annoyed them, but finally stopped. The bulb would eventually need changed.

Finally, Dave Jr. finished his schoolwork and haphazardly threw his textbook on the floor. Then, he closed his eyes and covered them with his hands. Dave Sr. watched carefully, picking up on every nuance about the kid.

"So," Dave Sr. began, "what's wrong?"

Dave was biting his thumbnail. "Kevin and I had a fight."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Dave," the old man began, chuckling a little, "I might be hard of hearing but I thought Russia could hear you two arguing!"

Dave Jr. groaned. "Great."

"Listen, boy." He sat up. "I know you're struggling right now. I know you have a lot on your plate, as they say. But there's one thing you might be forgetting right now."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"You still love him."

"Of course I do!" Dave Jr. yelled, standing up. He began pacing a little. "I mean, he was mean to you and I just wanted him to stop! He was even _RUDE_! And I didn't want to… _ARGGGGHHH_!" He flopped back down in the chair.

But Dave Sr. laughed out loud, pouring a shot of vodka. Dave Jr. watched with furrowed eyebrows.

"None for me, huh?"

"No. Not now." He 'skoaled!' to himself and swallowed. "Alcohol is not what you need right now."

Dave Jr. looked down but said nothing.

"And you need to know," the old veteran said, "that Kevin is trying to be helpful. He didn't offend me." Again, Dave Jr. said nothing. "And not only that, but…he loves you."

"He does?"

"Oh dear God, yes."

An exquisite flute and piccolo could now be heard on the stereo that damn lightbulb flickered again. Dave Sr. stared at it.

"I got it." The boy said and left the room. A minute later, he came back in with a replacement bulb and screwed it in. And when he sat back down, Dave Sr. started laughing again!

"What?" Dave Jr. asked with a touch of annoyance.

"See, boy? You take care of people too much. You baby them."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do. You're protective, Dave. And you can't always see that there are other ways to do it." Dave Jr. just looked confused. So, the old man wriggled in chair, obnoxiously adjusted himself, and looked at his grandson. "Kevin is a good guy. A really good guy. And you risk losing him because of your… I can't believe I'm about to say this, but because of your stubbornness."

"I'm not stubborn!"

"Oh, dear God. Yes. Yes, you are. When I think back on the number of times Kurt used that word on me…" He stroked his chin and scar and sat back. "And look what happened to me? I almost let my pride, fear, and stubbornness get in the way of loving Kurt." Dave Jr. looked down. "That's why you can't let go of Kevin. He means so, so much to you, boy. And you know it. And I think you can't stand it."

"Of course I can't!" Dave Jr. wailed. "I…I miss him already."

"Then go to him. Bring him here. Don't…" Dave Sr. looked away. "Don't do what I did to Kurt."

And that begged the question in Dave Jr.'s mind. "Grandpa? Whatever happened to Kurt?"

Ignoring the question, Dave Sr. asked, "How long have you and Kevin been together?"

"A year."

"A year?"

"Yeah."

"Good God, boy! Go! You need to make this right! You need to let go of your fears and overprotectiveness. They both will…take your life away."

"How do I do that?"

"How should I know?!" Dave Sr. asked with a short laugh (and a long cough). "Just get him back. Don't become what I became. And when you've made up, bring him back here."

"Why?" Dave Jr. asked very curiously. "Why did you want him here when you talked about Kurt? And what happened to him?"

Dave Sr. didn't answer. Instead, he let the cannons blast on the stereo and silently went upstairs to bed.

.

"Kevin?"

The blonde boy turned around, frowned, slammed his locker shut, and walked away. Dave Jr. followed.

"Please Kevin! Can we just-?"

"You know," Kevin began, darting around students in the early morning at McKinley High School, "there's a reason I've ignored your," he checked his cell phone, "eleven texts and four voicemails."

"But I just need to-!"

"I have to go to class."

Kevin took off down the hall with a dancer's speed. And Dave Jr. just watched him go.

"Dammit."

.

Third period. French class for Kevin. Calculus for Dave. And they would be crossing each other again. There were probably more texts from Dave on Kevin's cell phone but he didn't bother. And when they passed each other in the hall, you'd think The Cold War was alive and well again. Neither spoke.

.

Sixth period. Kevin's algebra class was down the hall from Dave's typing class. They crossed paths again. Same result. It seemed colder every time they crossed paths. Dave stared but Kevin wouldn't look at him.

"Stubborn brat." Dave said as he passed him.

"Stubborn Russian." Kevin muttered.

And that was it.

.

Eighth period. The last of the classes for them both that day. Dave had English class and nearby, Kevin was in glee. They always made it a habit to hookup afterwards and walk out together. So, when the bell sounded, Dave walked down towards the choir room and was only a little surprised when he didn't see Kevin. After a brief conversation with one of the Gleeks, he discovered that Kevin was in the restroom.

Dave made a beeline to the little hole of a wall restroom. And there, he discovered Kevin was washing his hands. He couldn't help but notice the boy's delicate hands, the strong features, the stunning blonde hair… And that's when he cleared his throat. Kevin looked up and immediately glared.

"Please, Kevin!"

Kevin turned off the faucet. "Dave, just go away."

" _NOOOOO!"_

Kevin jumped a little, eyes wide. Dave walked fast right up to him and grabbed his shoulders. "I'm not perfect, Kevin. I probably blame too much. I'm still in the closet at school. I can't remember the last book I read. I probably suck at apologies too."

Kevin said nothing.

"But I know one thing." Dave continued. "I don't…" he peeked under the stalls and saw that they were alone. "I know that I don't wanna lose you…"

Kevin looked away. "Dave!"

"Please listen! I'm sorry for hurting you. I know I can be a…" his grandpa's _AND_ Kevin's words came to him, "a stubborn Russian sometimes." Kevin looked up into his pained eyes, "but I know how…unhappy I am without you."

"Dave," Kevin began, taking a step back, feeling (and missing) Dave's touch, "it's more than that. I wasn't trying to hurt you or your grandpa!"

"I know! I mean…I know that now. I was just…I don't know. Overprotective, I guess."

"Yes."

"And I can be controlling."

"Yes."

"And I can be difficult."

"Oh my, yes."

"And I love you."

"Ye-" Kevin began and stopped. He looked up into those gorgeous hazel eyes, the broad shoulders, the strong supportiveness and even hope pouring into the singer. They stared at each other, wishing and wanting their lives to still be together.

"I…" Kevin began. Dave remained silent. "I love you too, Dave."

Eagerly, the jock scooped Kevin in his arms and picked him up. Kevin squealed a little and laughed.

"Dave! Put me down!"

"Nope!"

They held each other in that ugly restroom under ugly artificial light. Kevin's arms found their way to Dave's back and held him tight. And Dave wouldn't let go!

"Dave?"

"Yeah?" he responded, voice muffled by Kevin's neck.

"You'll be late for football practice."

"I know."

Dave didn't let go. He held him while the smaller boy fruitlessly struggled in his arms. It didn't look like Kevin was going anywhere for a while. Dave's hand found it's way to the back of Kevin's head and pulled it back. Then, a soft kiss was shared between them and their dismal surroundings were no longer there.

"Dave, put me down and go to football practice."

The jock growled. "Ohhhhhh!" But Dave didn't move. He held firm and then whispered, "Grandpa wants us back at his house tonight to tell us the rest of his story."

"OK. I'll be there tonight. And put me down, you stubborn Russian."

"Oh, alright you stubborn brat."

And when Kevin's feet connected to the floor, it appeared they had new nicknames for each other.

.

"Hello Dave!"

"Hello Kevin. Good to see you as always. I trust you've been well?"

Dave Jr. put his arm around his boyfriend. _"WE'VE_ been well, grandpa."

"Good. Good to see that. Now, I'm hungry. Make more spanakopita, boy."

"But, we just had that last night!"

"Don't care."

"What's spana...?" Kevin asked.

"Oh, boy." Dave Sr. said with a laugh. "You're in for a treat. My boy makes a good spanakopita and you'll love it. It's vegetarian."

"Wait!" Kevin said, putting up his hands. "Wait, wait, wait. You got my boyfriend to eat a vegetarian meal?"

"Uh huh."

Dave Jr. groaned.

"Well," Kevin said, " _THIS_ I gotta see! I've been trying to get him to eat more healthy and he just won't!"

"Shut up, you stubborn brat!" Dave Jr. said.

"Oh, shut up, you stubborn Russ-" but Kevin stopped, glancing at the grandpa. But he just laughed!

"Boys, an aparativ. Then, get to work!"

Well, to say the evening started off well was a bit of an understatement. After a round of vodka shots (which Kevin was adjusting to, thank you very much), the boys worked together. Dave Jr. put on Quinn's silly apron from before and Kevin thought it adorable. The boys laughed and joked a lot as the old Russian watched them, a faint smile on his face. The bittersweet moment grew on him though and he retired to the living room. He placed 'Rite of Spring' by Stravinsky on the stereo and sipped more vodka.

The dinner was fantastic. Kevin fell in love with the pastry, vegetarian dish and both Karofsky men loved seeing him ask for seconds. Clean up was a breeze and all too soon, the boys walked in to the living room, where Grandpa Karofsky sat.

The moment was tense. No one said a word. And when the incredible Stravinsky piece was over, the silence just made it worse. The boys knew they were about to learn more of the mysterious Kurt and they couldn't help but be a bit impatient.

As if comic relief was needed, Dave Jr. belched. And after a quick 'excuse me', Dave Sr. farted. Both men just laughed and Kevin rolled his eyes. It was the tension breaker that was needed.

"Can I put that song back on the stereo?" Kevin asked.

"Please do." Dave Sr. said. Kevin did just that and the soft, stunning intro began. And when Kevin sat back down, they both could see that Dave Sr. had a wistful look in his eyes.

"Boys?"

"Yeah?"

"I suppose you want to know the rest of my story about Vietnam and Kurt."

The boys said nothing, but scooted to the edge of their seats, eyes glued to the suddenly morose looking old veteran. He smiled a little. "It gets bad. Really bad. War is hell, boys. And this is why," he looked directly at Kevin, "I pushed for my grandson to make up with you."

Kevin started to place a hand over his heart and then let it rest back on the chair.

"There are so, so many boring times in war, boys. And when you're there, when you're trying to…" he scratched his jaw, "figure out whatever it is that you want, you don't always make the right decisions. So, when I was over there, Kurt and I…"

Dave Sr. reached for the vodka bottle. A little sound escaped Kevin's throat and their eyes met. Dave Sr. removed his arm without the bottle.

"We fell in love there. And I don't regret it one bit." He looked up at the ceiling. "Oh, the number of times we argued. The number of times we…" his tongue went in his cheek, "made up." Dave Jr. made a mildly weirded-out face. "And how much I would've given up for him. And I did. BUT what I gave up wasn't what I wanted in life anyway. I wanted…him."

Dave Jr. and Kevin glanced at each other but remained silent.

"So, I'm sure this question is on your minds. Was Kurt killed in Vietnam?"

The boys held their breath.

"Did Kurt die?" Dave Jr. asked.

Dave Sr. looked at them and sadly smiled. "Kurt and I did make it out of Vietnam in one piece. Well…at least, I did…"

They glanced at each other and then right back to Dave Sr. "You…you did?"

"Yup. Wars always change you and I can't say enough about how much I admired him. And loved him." And then, his face grew hard. "But to answer your question more directly, Kurt died." Their eyes went wide. "In a way."

The boys were incredibly confused! And Dave Sr. just laughed, a belly laugh that sent his head towards the ceiling.

"What…?" Dave Jr. began.

Finally, Dave Sr. calmed down and looked at them both. "Would you like to go see him?"

.

 **AN: Sorry for the cliffhanger. ;) Don't come after me with pitchforks! lol!**

 **Soooooo, what do you think happened? Are you happy with that Kevin and Dave made up? Do you like the nicknames? I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts and theories. :)**

 **Thank you for reading! Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Again thank you for ALL the support.**

 **This is an INCREDIBLY INTENSE chapter. The hardest one I've done. I tried to keep it Rated T as much as I can. Its incredibly GRAPHIC and frankly a little hard to stomach. But I felt the need to do this. Its a harsh reality of what happened and what happens in war.. Also this will be the most violent chapter. After this there will be no more.**

 **Just a heads up.**

 **Thank you all.**

 **Please review. Please be kind.-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

 **Chapter 14**

Over the next few days, Dave and Kurt didn't speak. They wouldn't even be near each other. And it tore them apart. But that's what happens in the aftermath of a vicious argument.

Meanwhile, headquarters was getting tired of all the little sneak attacks against the unit and they decided to go on the offensive again. It looked like their few weeks of relative peace was coming to an end. The unit was dispersed through the jungle one morning. Kurt was at one end and Dave was at the other.

Everything about the jungle grew tiresome. Whether it was the heat or the threat of an enemy or sniper, it seemed to grow on everyone's nerves. Tensions were high as every single man high-stepped through the jungle. Kurt kept his eyes forward.

And then, he saw him.

Kurt got down and trained his long rifle forward. He could see the eyes of the enemy in front of him and he wasn't going to take too long to finish him off. Kurt lied on the forest floor, legs spread in the combat firing position and aimed his rifle ahead.

"Easy." Someone very quietly said.

"I got him." Kurt said in a hushed voice, eye squinted looking down the scope. He took a breath and the guy moved again. Kurt exhaled.

"Want me to do it?"

"I got him." Kurt repeated.

"Steady."

Kurt felt a hand on the small of his back, helping to stabilize him. The hand was strong and somehow comforting as it steadied Kurt. And then, he took his breath, trained his eye on the enemy…and fired!

The enemy went down and a torrent of bullets erupted all around them! Kurt turned on his side and looked up. His eyes went wide when he saw who was still hovering over him.

"C'mon, Kurt!" Dave yelled. "They said _GO!"_

They got to their feet and ran, screaming into the jungle. The air stung with the sound of whizzing bullets, leaves cut their arms, and Dave killed two North Vietnamese on his way. Kurt followed, reaching for his belt.

"Dave! Stop!"

Dave did just that. And when he turned around, he saw what Kurt was seeing. A group of about five or six enemy soldiers was coming towards them, ducking behind trees and some were even climbing them. And when Dave looked back, he saw the pin being pulled out of the grenade in Kurt's hand.

"Get back!" Kurt yelled and threw it!

 _BOOOOOOM!_

Enemy soldiers yelled in pain and some vanished. Kurt and Dave had ducked to the ground. Kurt barely registered that Dave's arm was around him protectively. And Kurt saw something strange – a little yellow canister that looked like it was leaking some kind of gas.

"Go, go, go!" someone yelled.

Dave and Kurt were up and at them again! Choppers were now overhead firing missiles far off in the distance, their resounding explosions rocking the Earth. Some of the unit was wounded but most of them were advancing with the boys and even taking enemy prisoners. Kurt fired into the jungle again and Dave radioed for backup.

And then the enemy regrouped.

Reinforcements in the Vietnamese language could be heard and suddenly, the unit was outnumbered!

"Chết bạn khỉ tư bản!"

Dave whirled to his right only to have an enemy soldier jump at him! The enemy wildly tried stabbing him over and over, evidently out of ammo. Dave tried to pull out his gun, but a vicious kick to the head sent him to the ground. And in a half-second, he jumped on top of Dave.

"Chết chết chết!" the enemy screamed. He slashed at Dave's face and the bigger boy threw him off! Kurt came from behind, kicked the enemy soldier in the back of the knee, and fired a bullet in his brain.

 _"Daaaaaave!"_

Blood gushed from his wound as the knife penetrated Dave's entire face. Between sweat, blood, and dirt, Dave could hardly see!

"I'm OK, Kurt." Dave struggled to say, holding his face. "Where are they?!"

"They're-!" Suddenly, a bullet whizzed in the air, Kurt screamed in pain and went down! Kurt was holding his right leg and Dave could see the blood oozing from it.

" _NOOOOOOO!"_ Dave roared. With a fury he hadn't EVER felt, he pulled his machine gun off his shoulder and aimed into the jungle.

 _"YOU FUCKING COMMIE BASTARD MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKING SONSABITCHES!"_

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat! Dave fired over and over and over until he heard absolutely nothing in front of him. Panting and sweating like a madman, he turned to see that Kurt was lying helplessly on the jungle floor. The blood flowed out of Kurt's leg like a river and Dave put his hand on it, sending Kurt screaming in more pain!

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Dave yelled.

"D-D-Dave-"

"No, no, no, no...I'm gonna get you outta here, baby! I _AM!"_

"I...I can s-still...shoot!"

"No! I'm getting you out of here!"

Dave easily scooped the smaller warrior in his arms and ran back towards the encampment. The unit had already advanced but bullets were still flying around them!

"Goddammit!"

"Dave! Set me down!"

Dave didn't hear him or disobeyed or something as the first of the mortars exploded above them.

"Dave! Behind you!"

He ducked behind a big bush just as an enemy soldier fired at them! Dave hovered over Kurt, hiding behind a tree, his hand on his gun. The enemy knew exactly where they were and fired over and over! Dave put his arm over Kurt's head and stayed still, letting the Earth take most of the bullets. Finally, the soldier stopped firing and advanced.

"I got him." Kurt whispered.

And then, Kurt heard a sound out of Dave's throat that can only be described as a feral growl. "No. I fucking got him."

Dave rose and fired two bullets. The enemy was dead.

"C'mon! We're getting you to the infirmary!"

But when Dave lifted Kurt, the injured leg wiggled way too far to the left. It was clearly broken and part of the bone was exposed in a bloody mess. The smaller guy howled in pain but held onto Dave's shoulder as best he could. And Dave was crying as he ran!

"Oh no, Kurt! Don't die! Don't die! Don't die! No, no, no, no, no!"

The unit was no longer around them as they ran through the jungle. Rumbles from the battle were no longer heard and it appeared no other enemy was around them.

 _Zzzzzzzzp!_

A bullet grazed Dave's other arm!

" _GODDAMMIT_!" Dave roared and set Kurt back down once again. Kurt was beginning to lose consciousness. "Gimme a fuckin' break, will ya'?!" He fired over and over into the jungle once again. Smoke from the jungle began seeping towards them like a parade and the enemy couldn't escape!

"That's right, ya' fuckers! Smoke 'em if ya' got 'em!" Dave yelled. Then, he scooped up Kurt and looked at him. Instantly, he was horrified.

Kurt was unconscious.

 _"Kurrrrrrrrrrrrrt!"_

Dave picked him up and ran. He ran and ran and ran. He leaped over bushes, jumped over hills, no longer felt pain, eyes ferally went wild, and he all but crashed into the borders of the compound. They collapsed onto the jungle floor.

 _"Nooooo! Kurrrrrt! Kurt? Kurt?!"_

Kurt was starting to come around…and then seemed to lose consciousness.

"Oh God, please don't die! Please, please, please, _PLEASE!_ Please don't die! I love you so MUCH! Please don't die! _PLEASE DON'T DIE! DON'T DIE YOU MOTHERFUCKER! DON'T DIIIIIIIIE!"_

And then, Kurt moaned. Dave laughed out loud in enormous relief and carried him to the first triage unit he could find.

.

Three days. It took three days of daily visits to the infirmary for Dave to finally get some results. But once the doctors reassured him and his CO that Kurt would be OK, Dave seemed to be less of a problem in the unit.

Of course, duty called. Dave had to go fight the enemy some more. And every time he returned, he came to the infirmary to check on his unconscious friend. But once Kurt opened his eyes, Dave felt like he could finally breathe again.

Kurt was extremely weak. Blood loss, shock, bone-setting, and surgery took the strength out of him and Dave acted like an overprotective guard dog. Every time a nurse came by to check on his vitals or fluid intake, Dave watched over and even got in the way. The CO even had to talk to the big Russian guy, telling him to get back on patrol. Dave grumbled and did as he was ordered.

After about the fifth day, Kurt was finally conscious nearly all day. Dave stayed with him as often as he could. The very first thing Kurt saw every time he opened his eyes was the concerned face of David Karofsky.

And the bandages.

"You-" Kurt began, and then coughed. Dave handed him a water bottle and Kurt heartily drank. After a few gulps and a few deep breaths, Kurt looked up at him. "You OK? You're…bandaged."

"You just had major surgery on your femoral artery, had a bone reset, pulled out of nerve shock, and you ask if I'M OK?"

"Well…yeah."

Dave just laughed. "Kurt Hummel. You are the most stubborn sonofabitch I've ever met."

Kurt tried to laugh but the pain prevented him. Dave just kept smiling.

"Yes, Kurt. I'm fine. The cuts on my ugly mug aren't infected and they're healing."

Kurt wanted to touch the ugly, white bandages on Dave's cheeks, jaw, and forehead. But he didn't. He struggled to lift his arms and eventually, out of frustration, stopped trying. Then, he looked around the room and realized they were relatively alone.

So, Kurt whispered, "Well, I still think you're handsome."

"Oh, shut up, Fancy!"

 _"YOU_ shut up, Fury!"

More laughter. More grunts of pain. More of everything in a war that didn't matter. And still, they just smiled at each other. Dave stood over Kurt and whenever he looked like he was in pain, Dave was on the nurses immediately. Kurt hated the morphine but had to admit that pain relief was nice.

Others around them weren't so lucky. As they looked around, they could see two gurneys taking out soldiers that were covered. Others looked completely morose and never considered themselves as lucky as Kurt and Dave. Dave so, so badly wanted to hold Kurt's hand, but couldn't.

"So, I have some good news, Kurt."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"We get to go home."

Kurt's eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah!" Dave smiled. "You need to heal and I've been shot twice. Cut up pretty bad. They said we're no longer able to fight and they're sending us home!"

"Wow! Far out!"

"Yeah! You said it!"

They smiled at each other like little boys should – honest, carefree, happy.

"When do we leave?" Kurt asked.

"Well, _YOU_ have to heal first. And, well, so do I. But I think in a week or so."

"Wow! Far out!"

"You said that already, Kurt!"

"It's just…" Kurt suddenly looked sad and looked away. Dave didn't like what he was seeing. He crossed the little cot and kneeled down in front of the wounded warrior.

"We're going home, Kurt." Dave whispered. A tear fell out of Kurt's eye. "And hey, when we get there, you are coming to my parent's house. You'll love it! It's a big old farmhouse. We have pigs and a garden and tons of crops!"

"Gee," Kurt sarcastically said between tears, "how can I refuse?"

"Oh, ha, ha, funny man." Kurt giggled. And then, Dave cleared his throat and continued. "But you're not hearing me. Or I'm not being very clear." Kurt looked him in the eye. "Kurt, I thought…I thought…"

Kurt sat up as much as he could watching the enormous Russian boy shake.

"What, Dave?"

"I…I thought I lost you out there."

"But you didn't!"

"But I _THOUGHT_ I did! And," Dave peeked around to see if anyone was nearby. When the coast was clear, he continued, "I never want to have that feeling again. I…I was wrong, Kurt."

A nurse walked by and Dave automatically backed up a little. Then, when she vanished, Dave scooted back towards him, but a little closer…

"I want you, Kurt. I want you to live with me." Tears exploded out of Kurt's eyes. "Life's too short, they say. I mean, we're young! We can do whatever we want! And…if you'll have me…I'll…I'll give you a good home. It's farmlife or whatever, but it's a life. Together! And I know you'll love Quinn and my parents! And we can-!"

Dave felt Kurt's hand go over his own mouth. The big guy stopped talking as one of his tears fell on Kurt's hand.

"Stop, Dave. Just…stop."

Dave gently removed the hand. "Why? I'm telling you this is what I want."

"Are you sure? Or are you just caught up in the-?"

 _"NO!"_ Dave yelled. He waited until they weren't being stared at before he lowered his voice. "You don't get it. I've been so…alone. So scared to face what I've always wanted. And it wasn't until I saw how brave and strong you are that I now feel like I can have a life!"

"Don't make me the reason that you have a 'normal' life, Dave." Kurt said, falling back on the bed.

"You're not! You got me to see that I can't walk away from happiness." Kurt closed his eyes. "Please Kurt! Look at me." After a second, Kurt opened his eyes and stared into those pained hazel eyes. And even with the ugly, bloody bandages over his face, David Karofsky had never looked so handsome in his young life.

"I want you to be with me. I _KNOW_ that's what you want. I can't live this life alone! What will I do? Grow crops, yell at Quinn, and have nightmares for the rest of my life? Please Kurt. Come with me. Come to my parent's farmhouse and we can build a life together."

Kurt stared at him, seeing the eyes twinkle in the artificial light, the hope in his voice, and so, so badly wanted to believe that this was all happening.

"Are…?" Kurt began, and then a small coughing fit took over. "Are you sure…?"

Dave didn't care who was around him. He grabbed Kurt's hand and began coughing as well. "Oh God, yes Kurt! Yes! Please say you will. I'll…" Another coughing spell from them both. "I'll make you happy, Kurt."

"Excuse me?"

Suddenly, the moment was interrupted by a nurse. Dave immediately let go of Kurt's hand and stood up.

"Yes?" Dave answered.

"Have you two been exposed to Agent Orange?"

"Are they," Kurt began, "those little yellow canisters?"

The nurse yelled down the hall. "Guard! Quarantine these two! _NOW!"_

Dave and Kurt were shipped back to the United States the very next day.

.

 **AN: Thank you ALL for reading. :)**

 **Let me know if you have questions? Or what you thought?**

 **English Translations: Chết bạn khỉ tư bản! - die you capitalist bastards!**

 **Chết, Chết, Chết! - die, die, die!**

 **Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: HI EVERYBODY!**

 **Thanks for your kind reviews and support! This story idea just keeps coming out of me and I have to keep writing. But your support is immeasurable! Thank you! X3**

 **This chapter, we delve a little into the life of Quinn and Carrie. Plus, someone else gets introduced here. But you'll have to read to find out who!**

 **WARNING - there are two partial slurs used here.**

 **ENJOY! Please review. Please be kind. And let me know what you think. :)**

 **HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3**

 **Chapter 15**

t happened to her again. She could feel the warmth, the love, the tenderness… And then, loving arms cruelly removed into cruel shadows and her longing to have them back. She reached forward. The arms were disappearing! She could hardly breathe! She screamed over and over for that love to come back!

She woke up, out of breath a little. Panting, she got up and tried to shake off the remnants of her recurrent dream (or nightmare) for the last forty years. Regardless, she pushed it to the back of her mind and proceeded with her day.

Carrie Karofsky put as much as she could into a huge duffel bag. Her son was built like her daddy and was already enormous. So, it didn't take too long to fill it up with big, bulky clothes, some textbooks, a backup iPod, and who knows what other electronics. And she was doing this more out of obligation, than love. She was a mother, after all.

The drive was over quickly – _TOO_ quickly, and she emerged from her vehicle in front of her mother's house. It was a simple home with gray aluminum siding and an attached garage. And old TV antenna that was no longer used should've been taken down and the trim needed a paint job. Carrie looked at it momentarily and then reached for the duffel bag and approached the house. She barely pressed the doorbell before the door opened.

"He's not here."

Carrie looked up and saw the angry eyes, the crossed arms of her mother Quinn Fabray.

"What?"

"I _SAID_ , he's not here! He's staying with your daddy."

"With daddy?!"

"Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

Carrie looked down, the bag hurting her shoulder a little, and said nothing. Meanwhile, Quinn looked at her daughter and could see something was troubling her. Carrie had long brown hair and those strong Russian features Quinn so admired. Of course, there was also the delicate arms and legs that were so Fabray-like.

"N-nothing." Carrie said, clearing her throat, "I brought some of Dave's clothes."

"Why don't you take them to him yourself?"

"I _THOUGHT_ I was!"

"Well, you still can!"

"Moooooom!"

"Don't you 'mom' me! Get in this house, Carrie Karofsky! I'm going to talk to you and you are gonna listen! You put your family through _ENOUGH!"_

A moment passed. Carrie almost let a lower lip come out as she walked in the house. She set the big bag in the foyer and sat down on a living room sofa. Quinn soon followed and sat down across from her.

"Where's your…husband?" Carrie asked.

"He's out. And don't change the subject."

For a change, Carrie went silent. She poked at some loose upholstery in the sofa cushion while her mother stared daggers into her.

"Carrie?"

"Yes, mooom?"

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah, nothing."

"Well, I know one thing's for sure." Quinn began, with a gentle yet firm tone, "Your son isn't here and doesn't look like he's coming back anytime soon." Carrie said nothing. "And you'll regret it if he never does." Again, nothing. "And it's all your fault."

"It is _NOT_ my fault that my son is a fa-"

"Carrie Karofsky! Don't you _EVER_ use that word again! We raised you better than that! If you truly don't want Dave or your daddy in your life again, you keep this up and you'll see what I _MEAN_!"

Quinn got up, embraced herself, and walked a few steps away. She was fighting off tears. But Carrie suddenly got curious.

"What do you mean, 'if I truly don't want to see Dave _OR_ _MY_ daddy again'?"

Quinn looked up and turned around. "They are tight, Carrie. They love each other, like family should."

Carrie's eyes narrowed and she said, "Ooookaaayy… It just sounded like you were saying-"

"I'm talking about your son, Carrie! You hurt him _AND THIS FAMILY!"_

"Why?" Carrie asked, standing up, "You think I really wanted a fa-" She stopped when her mom advanced on her. "I mean, I didn't want a…son like that."

"Well, too bad. I didn't want a homophobic daughter either."

"Oh! I see, mom! I can't even have my own opinion, huh?" She got up and grabbed the duffel bag on her way out. "Well, let's see who has the last laugh, shall we?!" Carrie burst out the door, lugging Dave's belongings. Quinn followed.

"Your father," Quinn yelled, walking towards where Carrie was, "and I didn't raise you to be like this! We raised you to be loving and accepting!"

"Oh?" Carrie defiantly asked. "So, is that why you and daddy got a divorce?"

The question halted Quinn so much that she felt like she'd been punched. But Carrie almost smiled. "That's right, mom! I know alllllll about love in this family. I know how it can go wrong! I know it can go against you! I know it can make my mother act so self-righteous! _I KNOW IT CAN MAKE MY SON A FA-!"_

Quinn slapped Carrie! The daughter looked in shock at her mother, who was moments away from crying. Carrie loaded the bag in the backseat and opened the driver's side door. But then, she came to a stop.

No one spoke. No one could say a word. They stood there, hovering in time and space and not even a gentle breeze could soothe them.

"I remember when you were born," Quinn quietly said. "Ohhhhhh…you were so…precious. I felt like I had to protect you from the whole world. I also remember the look on your daddy's face. He loved you SO much. You were this little thing that we brought into this world with so much love and caring." And then, she stared holes into her daughter's eyes. "But now?... We don't know this version of you and frankly honey I don't understand why you are so angry?"

Carrie turned and for the first time in recent memory, fought off her own tears. Quinn could see and feel the conflict in her daughter and placed a gentle hand on Carrie's shoulder. But she shook it off and whirled around!

"Why did you and daddy divorce?" the angry daughter wailed. "Why did you have to marry…your new husband? Why is my son gay? Why am I unable to keep a husband? Why can't I have the life I always wanted?! And _WHY CAN'T I STOP HAVING NIGHTMARES?!"_

Quinn rushed to her daughter and held her tight. A tear or two escaped their eyes and they held each other in the partial sunlight. The 'door open' bell was dinging in their ears and they didn't care. Quinn began stroking Carrie's back and soothed her as best she could. Heads rested on shoulders for a long while.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's Kurt Hummel?"

Quinn stopped so suddenly and pulled back that Carrie jolted a little. And when her mother said nothing in response, Carrie's fierce scowl returned.

"And secrets! Secrets in this family that seem to be better than staying together or having a gay son or _WHATEVER!_ I've had it with you, mom!"

"Carrie! Don't go!"

But it was too late. Carrie already had the car going in reverse. And when she pulled out onto the road, she could still hear Quinn shouting for her to come back. But instead, Carrie simply left, heading in the direction of her daddy's farmhouse.

Quinn shook and ran inside.

.

Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam!

Carrie pounded on her daddy's front porch door. She waited a few more seconds, heard nothing, and pounded again. She'd lugged the enormous duffel bag and the zipper was starting to break. Groaning, she set it back down on the porch and walked over towards the kitchen window. There were signs of life in the old farmhouse cooking room – silverware laid about, some pots and pans were scattered, and the table had an empty bottle of Stolichnaya.

"Typical." Carrie muttered.

She didn't quite know what to do. So, she returned to her car and grabbed a notebook and pen. But when she considered what to write, Carrie Karofsky struggled. In the end, she simply said that these were more of Dave Jr.'s clothes. That's it. Nothing else. Sighing a little, she returned to the porch and slid the note in one of the handles of the duffel bag.

That's when there was a sudden burst of sunlight behind her. The mid-afternoon sunshine glowed like a vision and it all but consumed her. Carrie stood back up and when she looked back at the porch door, she could see the shadows on the wall from the sunlight behind her.

And that's when she saw…something. At first, she didn't know what it was. She sidestepped a little towards the living room area and peered in. No. Nothing there. And when she took a step back, that's when she saw something that couldn't have been there…

A shadowy hand. And not just a hand, but an arm too. It appeared to be surrounding her and she felt chills run all over her body. But she was far from scared. She felt…warm. Content.

Loving.

But still, the experience was strange and unnerving. With slightly shaky hands, she placed the pen in Dave's duffel bag and accidentally knocked out a bright orange shirt.

The orange glowed even more than the sun and she fell flat on the porch! Wide-eyed, she almost came to tears as the brightness enveloped her, eyes glued to the orange color.

The whole experience overwhelmed her. Immediately, she got up, ran to her car, and left. The orange shirt was left on the porch.

.

Quinn cradled her head with her right hand and simply sat at her kitchen table. She was completely befuddled about her family and didn't know what to do. But it tore at her heart and she was as confused as ever.

She considered calling Dave Sr. She wanted to warn them about Carrie's impending visit. But there are times when you need to take care of yourself and this was one of them. Besides, Quinn reasoned that there wasn't anything she could do about this that she'd already tried.

That frustration tore at her and she pounded the table with her fist. A tear threatened to fall once again and she considered a cup of calming tea. She turned to look at the wall clock and realized that it wasn't too late to have a nice cup of black tea. But her legs didn't work. Instead, she just stayed there, kept her hand on her head, and finally, that lone tear fell.

The garage door activated. She could hear the car pull in and the engine shut off. Quickly she wiped a tear and forced herself to get the kettle on. By that point, the kitchen door opened and she could feel his huge presence in the room.

"Hey baby."

"Hi Azimio."

"Having a cup of tea?"

"Yeah…" But Quinn simply returned to the table and sat down, her back to him. She could feel his footsteps approach her and suddenly, she was surrounded by enormous arms and his warm body. She felt the kiss on her forehead and sniffled. Alarmed, Azimio slid into the nearby chair and sat beside her.

"Quinn? Baby? What's wrong?"

"Car-Carrie stopped by today." Azimio didn't say anything. "And…and she had some of Dave Jr.'s clothes with her."

"Oh my God…" Azimio said, putting his own head to his forehead. "What happened?"

"She and I had a fight and she stormed out."

Azimio sighed. "Great."

"Oh God, Azimio!" Quinn wailed. "What has happened to this family?"

"Hey, hey," Azimio began, turning his wife to him, "it's my family too. And we'll get through this."

She sniffed a little. "I know. And I didn't mean to say it like that."

"I know, baby." Azimio said, pulling some blonde hair out of her eyes, "But you know what? Even though I may not be her biological father, she can't hurt you."

Quinn half-smiled. "Azimio, she needs understanding and love…something Dave and I thought we gave her. But she said some things…"

"Like what?"

Quinn reached for his enormous hand and he snatched it up. "She's still angry about my divorce from Dave. She hates that her son is gay. And she…"

"Go on."

"She wouldn't even name you by your name."

Azimio sighed again. "I see."

"I just don't understand!"

"I don't either, Quinn. But you can't force her to do what you and everyone else wants. She's her own person, even if she's in the wrong."

She looked at him quizzically. "Are…are you defending her?"

"Of course not, baby. I just…" he scratched his jaw and ran a hand through his now receding hair, "You and Dave tried to give her a good life and you both did as best you could. And, let's face it – NOBODY could've prevented what happened to Kurt."

Quinn immediately put her head down. "I know."

"So," Azimio used his strength to guide her to a standing position and pulled her right beside him. "You and I have to keep setting a good example."

"My God, Azimio! Still?! We're in our 60s!"

"So? Do you really think you stop growing up when you reach middle age?"

And then that gorgeous sound that made Azimio's heart flip every single time he heard it, happened – Quinn laughed and partially covered her mouth.

"That's my girl." He pulled her down to his lap.

"Azimio! Let me go!"

"No."

"But I have to-"

"No, you don't." He wrapped his burly arms around her.

"Azimio, I need to check on Dave!"

"He'll be fine." He patiently said. And then, his voice dropped a little. "Does…does Carrie know…everything?"

Quinn stopped squirming. "No."

"No?"

"No."

"Well, maybe it's time she should."

"Azimio, I've had this conversation with that stubborn old Russian about Kurt and our marriage and Vietnam and everything! But I can't get him to see reason!"

Azimio suddenly grinned, a familiar sight, which told Quinn that she knew she was in trouble. Or someone would be.

He looked up at her, goofily smiling, and said, "Let me talk to him."

.

 **AN: So, What do you all think of Azimio here? Keep in mind he's not the same here as in the show. More will be explained on how him and Quinn met. But let me know what you thought, overall? If you have questions let me know. Have a Nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGKEEX3**


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Hello loyal readers! Lol :)**

 **Thank you for the 8 followers and all the support and love you have shown so far.**

 **I'm back with another chapter! :)**

 **We're back in the past here and we see how Vietnam vets were treated when they returned from war. It wasn't pretty but it's not too bad here.**

 **Also, we meet Dave's dad, Paul Karofsky.**

 **So, ENJOY this chapter and please review. Please be kind.**

 **HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3**

 **Chapter 16**

Quinn was sitting in her car, biting her nails, checking her hair, looking at the station, and biting her nails again. She just couldn't shake the thought out of her head that something had changed in her best friend and she tried to further interpret one of the stranger letters she'd received from him.

Of course, the last letter was full of joy too. It was news that Dave was coming back to the States and he was in good health. But then, near the end, Dave wrote, "I'm bringing home a buddy to stay for a while. He's groovy!"

The message was cryptic and brief, but Quinn ignored the butterflies in her stomach. Around her, others were doing the same. Worried parents and single women stood around. Some had their arms folded and still others just looked lost. Everyone was there waiting for the same thing – their loved ones to return from that strange country called Vietnam.

.

Kurt and Dave were sitting side-by-side, crammed with other guys in the C-130 cargo plane. Many were lost in their own little worlds, their hands on their thighs or even airsickness bags. Although the boys had flown in a variety of planes, choppers, and napalm blasters, they hadn't really adjusted to these Iron Coffins. These planes didn't take turbulence very well.

But the boys were happy. Their eyes were closed and they were going home.

"Dave?"

"What?"

"Quinn knows what time we're landing?"

"Yeah."

"OK."

A sudden jolt lifted some of them out of their seats and Kurt even had to hang on to the seat. No one paid them any attention and as usual, it was stiflingly hot in the centrifuge.

"Dave?"

"What?"

"Is Quinn still in college?"

"Yes."

"Oh… Dave?"

The bigger guy finally looked at Kurt. "What?"

"Do you…do you think Quinn will like me? I mean, what if she hates me."

Dave genuinely smiled. "Don't worry. She'll like you." He returned his head to the panel and closed his eyes. "She's groovy." And quite abruptly, Dave started to laugh out loud!

"Dave! What's so funny? I mean, she means the world to you. And…", he leaned towards Dave, "I just want her to like me."

Dave looked and saw the fear in his eyes. Of course, that didn't stop Dave from smiling about it.

"Kurt. You'll be fine. She'll love you. She will. I mean…" he glanced and lowered his voice, "I do."

Kurt smiled and closed his eyes. Dave did the same. Turbulence didn't seem to matter as much after that.

.

"Quinn!"

"Daaaaaave!"

They crashed into each other. Dave scooped Quinn in his arms and held her off the floor for quite a while. Tears escaped their eyes and Kurt stood nearby. The other two finally separated and Quinn saw the devastating scar on his face.

"It's OK," Dave said. "It's healed."

"It better be."

They laughed and hugged again. Her neck and back hurt from his squeeze but she tolerated it. And Dave just held her for a few moments more before finally separating. Then, Quinn looked at Kurt, who looked exhausted. And when she looked back at Dave a little closer, she could see he was drained as well.

"Oh!" Dave said. "Quinn, this is Kurt. Kurt, Quinn."

"Nice to meet you, Kurt." She stuck out her hand.

"You too, Quinn. I heard a lot about you. Nearly every day."

"Ohhhhh, reallllllyyyyy?" Quinn asked smiling teasingly looking at Dave. Dave had his head down embarrassed.

"All good, I promise." And then, Dave's eyes drooped a little. "But Quinn, we're on Hawaii time. We're beat. Can we get in the car and go home?"

"Of course," Quinn immediately said. She reached for their bags, but the boys did that for her. So, she led the way through visitor's area of the base and were soon out the door. All three were smiling and having a total blast!

"Go back to Nam, ya' fuckers!"

Somebody shoulder-checked Kurt and Dave nearly knocked the protestors down.

"Get the fuck outta here." Dave venomously said.

"Dave, let's just go." Quinn said.

"Yeah," one of the protestors said, "go back and kill more innocent people in a stupid war that didn't matter that _YOU_ made worse, you fucking-!"

Dave knocked him to the floor!

"See?!" The angry protestor yelled. "That's what war does! All you need is peace! Peace and love! Where's Nixon now?!"

"Dave!"

He turned around to see Kurt had one of the other protestors on the floor in a headlock. Dave smiled. Quinn looked completely freaked.

So, Dave just said, "Come on. Let's just go."

Kurt let him go and joined the others. The three left the base, no worse for the wear, and their joy was still there. All three were called names as they left the airport. But they were together and they were happy. And they were headed home.

They walked towards Quinn's car together, under the slightly gloomy San Francisco clouds. There were other families there, celebrating the return of their loved ones. Of course, there were other kinds of reunions as well – the kinds that greet their families with coffins and tears. The three tried their best to ignore that.

Meanwhile, Kurt began talking. And talking. And talking. Quinn tried to get a word in edgewise but wasn't having much luck. And just as they reached her Impala, she turned and just looked at him. Kurt smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry," Kurt said. "I…ramble when I get nervous."

Quinn glanced at Dave and then right back to Kurt. "It's OK. I bite my nails. See? I did these two today!" She held up her hand and Kurt laughed.

And within a minute or two, the luggage was loaded in the trunk, and the boys were already starting to nod off in the backseat. Quinn drove, heading towards I-70 in Utah. It was a very long drive. But she was happy to see her friend.

At least seven hours passed and they were in Utah, connecting with I-70. Quinn checked the fuel gauge and she didn't need a gas station right away. However, she hadn't eaten in quite a while and guessed that the boys hadn't either. So, she looked up in the rearview mirror to ask them about food.

But when she looked, she saw something astonishing. Kurt and Dave were fast asleep. Kurt's head was straight back, arms at his sides. But Dave, his mouth open and snoring, was on Kurt's shoulder. They both were completely unconscious to the world around them and completely adorable.

Quinn watched them carefully. And then, she half-smiled and looked out towards the open highway.

"Well," Quinn whispered, "that makes sense."

Another 150 miles were driven and Quinn was starting to get really exhausted. So, near the Nebraska state line, she pulled over. After a quick check to see that the boys were OK, she checked into a hotel and got some fast food at a nearby A&W Root Beer stand. She realized she was probably spending too much money so soon, but she'd manage.

When she returned to the car, Kurt and Dave were just starting to come around.

"Here, boys." She handed them the familiar cardboard box of burgers, fries, and rootbeer floats.

"Cool," Dave grumbled, rubbing his eyes, "food."

"Yeah, I'm starving." Kurt added.

"Come on, guys. I got us a hotel." Quinn finished. And then, she turned and promptly took the food and room key towards the room. Dave and Kurt popped the trunk and took some overnight bags out.

And then, something devastating happened. As they ate the burgers, Dave and Kurt were crying. Quinn didn't understand as the boys chewed their food and with major difficulty, swallowed. They just let their tears fall down their faces and didn't try to stop or hide them.

"Boys? What's wrong?"

Dave looked up with a full bite in his mouth and Kurt just wiped his mouth.

"We've had…" Kurt said, "field rations. Powdered bread and imitation meat. For two years." Then, he held up his burger. "We…used to talk about real food and-"

"War is hard, Quinn." Dave said. "You dream about one day eating this kind of food, and then when the day comes…"

Quinn nodded and sadly smiled. "I see. Well, you're here now, boys. Just eat and go to sleep. I'll drive in the morning."

"No, you won't." Dave said.

"I'll be fine. You probably need more-"

"Quinn," Kurt began, "you do realize that you're talking to a stubborn Russian, don't you?"

Quinn exploded with laughter. Kurt joined in and the two shared a heartwarming, silly moment. Meanwhile, Dave glared at them, secretly enjoying what he was seeing. And the rest of the boys' burgers were finished in two bites. After that, they shared stories of each other's lives, both in war and college. Quinn's eyes bounced between the two boys. She saw their laughter and contentment. And a small part of her hated how Dave seemed to be opening up more to him than her. She put her head down and smiled knowingly.

Later, Quinn was leaving the bathroom just as Dave was trying to get in. They bumped into each other and said the usual round of 'excuse me's. But then, Quinn put a hand on Dave's arm and stopped him.

"Kurt's a keeper."

His eyes went wide. But Quinn merely smiled. Then, she patted his arm a little and went to her bed. Dave just watched her go, not exactly sure what just happened. Kurt was already sawing logs into the sky.

But it was also that evening that Quinn could see the psychological damage of war. She was awoken several times to the sounds of screams and the boys eyes were squinted. Dave and Kurt were each having nightmares and Quinn considered waking them up. But every time she got up to do something about them, the boys settled. It was a strange experience and something she'd never forget.

All in all, the boys had four nightmares that first night away from war.

.

The next day, everybody was preparing to leave. Yawns forced their way out of their mouths and Quinn stretched her arms. She was standing on the balcony of their little motel, getting ready to head east. Quinn was just about to turn around to ask what they wanted for breakfast when Dave stepped in front of her with their bags.

"Let's go!" Dave said with a smile.

Quinn laughed, watching him go. And when she stepped onto the threshold of the room, she saw something…odd.

Kurt was looking through one small carry-on bag and pulling out his clothes. Then, he put them back in. And then, he pulled them out. Kurt was repeating this over and over and Quinn watched him from afar.

"Kurt?"

The boy turned around and smiled at her. "Good morning, Quinn."

"What are you doing?"

Kurt looked at the clothes in his hand and quickly stashed them in his bag. "Nothing. Let's go!"

And with that, Kurt dashed out of the room. Quinn stared after him for a long moment and then shut the door.

After a hasty breakfast, they were on I-70 again. The flatlands of the plains were incredibly boring but nobody was really talking. They settled into a pattern of talking, playing games, silence. Talking, playing games, silence. Repeat. When you're traveling across the country, this is basically all you can do. Exhaustion had begun to seep into their bodies despite their young age. They just wanted to get home.

After another day of seemingly endless driving, they finally crossed the Ohio state line. Dave happened to be driving that day and when he reached Dayton and connected with Interstate 75, Kurt and Quinn were already getting along so well you'd think they were childhood friends. Dave would watch them in the rear view mirror. Quinn relayed all kinds of crazy stories about boys and dating. And when Kurt did the same, Quinn just smiled and laughed. Dave grinned. And an hour and a half later, they were home.

Quinn pulled up the long driveway of the farmhouse in the outskirts of Lima, Ohio. The newspaper was still stuck in the mailbox and Quinn had Dave stop the car so she could pull it out. After that, they drove up and arrived. The house was in peak condition and it wouldn't be any other way. All three emerged from the car and Dave smiled at the house.

On the porch stood Paul Karofsky, Dave's dad. He was a formidable man with a penetrating stare. His protruding belly and stature spoke of strength and pride, and he watched them not even cracking a smile. But Dave did.

"Hi dad!"

"Boy! Good to have you home! There's work to be done!"

Dave laughed and scooped up Quinn and Kurt on either side of him. "Dad, I'm sure you remember Quinn."

Paul stepped down the porch and approached the small blonde woman. He held her hands in the Old World style – he clasped four of her fingers and held them tight.

"Thank you, Quinn. Thank you for bringing my boy home to me."

"You're very welcome."

Then, he let go but continued to stare at the stunning beauty.

"Dad? This is who I talked about in my letter. This is Kurt Hummel."

The smile on Paul's face vanished and he looked over the kid. He towered over Kurt and regarded him for a long moment. Then, he stuck his hand out.

"Kurt." He simply said.

"M-Mr. Karofsky."

"Call me Paul. And…" he let go of the hand and turned towards the house, "thank you for your service."

Kurt didn't say anything. The three just stood there watching Paul taking his long strides back to the house. Suddenly, he came to a stop.

"Quinn?" Paul asked.

"Yes."

"Staying for dinner?"

"Oh, I can't. Thank you anyway. I'm exhausted."

Paul nodded. "Dave? Maybe you should drive her home."

"Oh, I'm OK." Quinn said. "I don't live far from here. Thank you."

Paul didn't seem satisfied but left it at that. He watched them, partially glaring into the late afternoon sun. Then, when it got uncomfortable, they said their goodbyes. Dave and Quinn hugged warmly. Then, Kurt and Quinn.

"Take care, Kurt." Quinn said, kissing him on the cheek.

"I will."

"And don't worry about Paul." Then, she giggled. "He's actually a pussy cat."

"Yeah. With claws."

Quinn laughed and waved her goodbyes to all of them. Then, she got in her car and drove home to probably one of the best sleeps of her life.

That left the three men together – Paul, Dave, and Kurt. The elder Karofsky had already headed into the house once Quinn's car was back on the road.

"Come on…boys!" Paul said.

Dave smiled. "C'mon Kurt!"

"OK."

Once Dave entered the home, he almost burst into tears. Home always has that warm, familiar overdose to the senses that tells you, 'I'm home'. And it did. He immediately smiled and then held the door open for Kurt. Paul retreated to the back of the kitchen, out of their sight.

"Your dad doesn't like me." Kurt whispered.

"He does…or, he will." Dave quietly said.

"Does he know…?"

"Yes, he does. And he's accepted it. But he's never had to face me with a boyfriend before."

"Bo…boyfriend…"

Kurt smiled and Dave just had to hug him. And after that brief exchange, they set their bags at the bottom of the stairs and found Paul in the kitchen. All three sat down as Paul set a bottle of Stolichnaya and three shot glasses on the table.

"What's for dinner?" Paul asked.

"Dad! I just got home! How would I know?"

"Well, you might as well get back in the swing of things here, Dave. And besides, you have work to do."

"I'll help too!" Kurt enthusiastically said.

Paul didn't say anything. Dave just grinned. And Kurt looked lost.

"Well," Paul said, standing back up and walking across the kitchen, "I have some leftover utka and aiva."

"Oh, far out!" Dave exclaimed.

Kurt just looked at his boyfriend. "What?"

"It's roasted duck with butter and lemon. You'll love it."

"Duck…" Kurt wondrously said. "I never thought I'd be eating Daffy."

"Oh, shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"I _SAID_ you'll love it!"

"Don't you tell me what to love and not love, Karofsky!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"Ohhhhh, yes you did! God, is this how you are, Dave?!"

"What? I'm wonderful!"

"Oh dear God almighty in our sweet heaven…"

Dave giggled. And across the way, Paul watched them. He pulled the utka and aiva out of the fridge and placed it in the frying pan. Then, he walked back to the table and poured three shots.

"An aparativ, boys."

"OK!" Dave said.

"What?" Kurt asked.

"It's an aparativ, Kurt." Dave began, "It's an alcoholic drink before dinner."

"Oh no. No, no, no." Kurt said waving his hands in the air. Paul fiercely glared at him. "I can't drink after just getting home!"

"Sure you can!" Dave said, eyes floating between his dad and his boyfriend. "S-sure you can! You'll be OK."

"I just can't." Kurt said and folded his arms.

Paul harrumphed and stood up, crossing the room. Dave watched him go and put his head down. Kurt just sat there, adamant that no alcohol would touch his lips that evening.

As Paul prepared dinner for them, he crossed into the living room for a few minutes and then disappeared. After he returned, the glorious opening to the '1812 Overture' began. Kurt was so stunned that his eyes widened and then completely closed. He fell into the sweet opening strings, the gorgeous flutes, the stunning soft intro that swept him off his feet. Curious, he walked into the living room and perused the record collection.

A wide smile on his face, Kurt read all of the unfamiliar names of Russian composers – Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky, Rimsky, etc. And then, he laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?"

Kurt whirled around to see Paul standing near him. Kurt immediately put the records back and stood up.

"I, uhh, ummm-"

"Speak up, boy."

"Well," Kurt braved a look up into Paul's probing eyes, "the last names of the composers."

"Yeah? What of it?"

"Well…they're all 'sky's."

"Yeah?"

"Like Karofsky."

For the briefest of moments, Paul's features softened. And then, that stoic, Russian persona took over. He softly said, "In all the years I've loved my ancestor's composers, I have never noticed this. I can't believe I haven't."

Kurt half-smiled and Paul looked at him with slightly more admiration. "Would you like to hear them all, boy?"

 _"YES!"_ Kurt all but yelled. Then, he calmed down. "I mean, yes, I would."

"Good, boy. But after dinner. Come. Eat. Now."

Paul left. Kurt followed. And Dave merely smiled.

.

 **AN: Thank you for reading! What did you think of this chapter and Paul? Have anice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: Hi everyone! :D**

 **Thank YOU ALL so much for the reviews, follows and favorites! It really does mean a lot to me and helps me with ideas and my writing. So again, THANK YOU ALL! :)**

 **OK- On to the story, We are in another flashback. But THIS time with Dave Jr. and Kevin. A reviewer wanted to know how they met and fell in love.**

 **I hope this answers your question. :)**

 **I wanted to take a break from the angst and drama for a bit and focus on something cute for a change.**

 **This will be Dave Jr.'s only flashback. This one is over the course of three years. It starts three years ago and then bounces two years into the future of the flashback.**

 **So with that said, I wont spoil anymore. Please review. Please be kind.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 17**

.

 **THREE YEARS AGO**

.

"Ready for dinner, Gertie?" Kevin asked, stepping into her room.

"Yeah."

"OK, let's get your chair ready."

The boy slid the geri-chair in front of her bed and helped her sit up. But then, Gertie looked up at him curiously.

"Do you remember me?" he gently asked. "I'm Kevin from the McKinley High School volunteer program."

She blinked a couple of times and didn't respond. Instead, she allowed herself to be lifted, with the aid of a belt, to a semi-erect position. Kevin stepped behind her and guided her down. A little grunt escaped his mouth when he had her in position. Then, he helped her into a more upright position and placed the tray on top of her armrests. When that was in place, Gertie rested her arms on it and smacked her lips.

"Hungry?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. I think they're having biscuits and gravy for dinner."

"Yeah."

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah."

Off they went. Kevin had a little smile on his face, despite the physical struggle to maneuver the chair around the bed, towards the door, out in the hall, and down to the left. He guided the chair, which was technically illegal to use anymore, but he wouldn't call social services on them.

"Is this chair OK for you Gertie?" He asked, glaring at the head nurse at the station.

"Yeah."

"Is it too tight?"

"Yeah."

He came to a stop. "Wait a minute. Do you remember my name?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"Yeah."

Kevin smiled and made sure she was secure in her seat. Pushing her down the hall, he passed by other residents of Rimsky Manor and saw other McKinley volunteers doing the same. There was always a touch of pride whenever he was the first one to get there before any of them. They passed the main reception area and the first aromas of dinner filled their noses.

"Mmmmm… Smells good, doesn't it Gertie?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

He entered the dining room and slid her in at the first available table. After locking her brakes and one final check, he smiled at her and almost kissed her temple. Then, he turned and went to get the other seven people he was assigned to. This was Kevin's routine. And he found it very rewarding.

Twenty minutes later, Kevin was pushing his last resident to the dining room. His elbows and shoulders ached by then but that was par for the course. The resident was a large man and Kevin struggled to get the resident in the chair. Nevertheless, he succeeded and was already past the reception area.

Down the hall, he could see another volunteer pushing a large palette of boxes. But Kevin couldn't see who it was and just kept pushing his man. He was just about to enter the cafeteria when he heard someone yell.

"Dave! Get those supplies in the kitchen!"

"OK!"

Kevin came to a stop. 'Dave'. That name was foreign to him and he came to a stop. Just as he peered down towards the kitchen, this 'Dave' had just dipped out of sight, the palette of at least fifteen boxes pulled with him. Kevin didn't know who he was, but the fact that he was helping the cafeteria do it's job seemed to satisfy him.

Minutes passed and dinner was served. Kevin was seated with Gertie and a rather odd fellow named Percy. Sandwiched between them, his arms ached from exertion and holding a plastic spoon to their mouths. Around him, at least five other McKinley volunteers and some nurse's aides were doing the same thing. The clatter of trays and metal serving carts was sometimes a loud distraction but not enough to deter his efforts.

Suddenly, two more residents arrived. Their chairs were struggling a little to get over the little rubber threshold of the cafeteria doors and Kevin could see only one arm pushing each chair. Eventually, they were pushed through and Kevin's jaw dropped.

David Karofsky. Dave was pushing two chairs at the same time towards a nearby table. Kevin watched in fascination, too stunned to say anything. Some of the biscuits he held up for Percy fell on his new jeans and he barely noticed. Instead, he watched this football jock gently pushing two people _AT THE SAME TIME_ to their dinners.

And not only that, but when Dave had them secure and their wheels locked, Kevin saw Dave actually smiling!

"Dave!" someone from the kitchen called out.

"Yeah?" Dave answered.

"We need more aprons and creamed corn!"

"Got it!"

Kevin's eyes couldn't have gotten wider when he saw Dave _TROT_ out of the room! He had no idea that _ANY_ of the jocks could be so…something. So…

Beneficial.

A few minutes later, Dave was back. At least twenty yellow and blue, previously stained aprons were on one hand. On his other arm, two institutional-sized cans of creamed corn. He carefully walked into the kitchen, dropped them off and began looking for someone to feed. And as his eyes scanned the room, they stopped on Kevin.

Dave's eyes widened and he looked a little more subdued than previously. He narrowed his eyes on Kevin just a little and then he mouthed the phrase, 'I know you!' Kevin half-smiled and nodded. Then, the bigger boy got back to business. Dave found two people to feed, directly in Kevin's field of vision. The two pretty much ignored one another and did their jobs.

After dinner, Kevin began the laborious task of helping the residents back to their rooms. Again, this was standard operating procedure and nothing he wasn't accustomed to. Still, it was harder work than he anticipated. He didn't see Dave again. When his people were done eating, he left and went into the kitchen.

About a half an hour later, Kevin was done. He even yawned a little as he strolled down the hall towards the reception area. And when he arrived, he saw Dave stretching his arms.

The jock was built – barrel-chested and strong. Dave appeared to be twisting a shoulder around. And when he windmilled his ache out, he turned and saw Kevin staring at him.

"Oh!" Kevin said. "I'm sorry." He headed towards the exit.

"You're Kevin, aren't you?"

The boy came to a stop and turned around. Dave looked at him openly and earnestly and Kevin blinked before answering. "Um, yeah."

"I'm Dave."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Well, yeah. Everyone knows the jocks."

Dave smiled a little. "Yeah, I guess."

"Did," Kevin began, taking a step closer, "you just start working here?"

"Yeah. The school sent me here."

"I think it's a good thing they did."

"Why?"

"Well," Kevin turned on that boyish grin and Dave stared, "you seem to really like it."

"Well, it's work. And it looks good on a college application, I suppose."

Kevin only partially believed him and smiled. Dave just watched his white teeth and the sparkle in his almost-violet eyes. Then, he shook his head.

"So, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"How long have you worked here?"

"Oh!" Kevin exclaimed, slapping his hand on his forehead, "About four months."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You like it?"

"Well, like you said, Dave, it's a job and it looks good-"

Dave took a daring step forward. "No. I mean…do YOU like it?"

Kevin gulped. "Y-yeah, I do."

"I think I do too."

They shared a warm smile that contrasted the ugly surroundings and harsh smells.

"Well," Dave said, startling Kevin a bit, "I guess I'll see you here tomorrow after school."

"Yeah! I'll be here…unless Mr. Shue drags glee out."

"You're in glee club?"

"Yeah. Now, _THAT_ I love."

"I thought about joining…"

"Really?!" Kevin asked. "Wow! That's so cool Dave! Why didn't you?"

"I…" Dave looked away, "I don't know. I guess I chickened out."

"You?"

"Well, that and I can't really sing and dance. But sometimes, I can belch the alphabet!"

"That's soooo charming, Dave!"

And this time when they laughed, they inadvertently took a step closer to each other. Kevin's eyes kept bouncing between Dave's eyes, shoulders, eyes, chest, and eyes again. And Dave just kept smiling. But soon, the uncomfortable silence took hold and they backed up a little.

"I should get going." Kevin softly said.

"Um, OK. I'll see ya' at school tomorrow."

"Yeah… Aren't you coming?"

Dave embarrassingly laughed. "Oh yeah! I'm done here too! Duuuuh!"

Kevin grinned and held the inner door open for him. So, of course Dave held the outer door open for him. They walked out into the cool night of Lima, Ohio, just a hint of a chill in the air.

"Do you have much homework?" Kevin asked, obviously trying to make some conversation.

"Nah. I get most of mine done in study hall or after practice."

"Football practice?"

"Yup. I play right guard. I block." Dave said, with a touch of pride. But when he saw the blank look on Kevin's face, he realized he wasn't getting anywhere. "I, um, basically knock guys around."

"Oh…" Kevin looked down as he walked and Dave got the faintest feeling that something wasn't right.

"But here," Dave suddenly said, making Kevin flip his head back to him, "my size is useful. I can lug around a lot of supplies and residents."

"I struggle with that." Kevin said just as they reached his car. Without even realizing it, Dave had walked the blonde boy to his car.

"Well…" Dave began, toeing the stones in the parking lot, "I could…help…you…sometime…"

Kevin brightened! "Really?!"

"Yeah!"

"Oh man! You have nooooo idea how much of a help that would be. Sometimes when I leave here, I can barely lift my arms."

"That's not good."

"No, it isn't." Pause. "Thanks Dave. I'd appreciate that."

"You're welcome… Well, I'm gonna…get home."

"OK, Dave. See ya' tomorrow at school."

"You got it!"

Dave turned on his heel and walked to his grandpa Karofsky's old truck. Kevin could see the outlines of Dave's shoulder blades in his shirt and swallowed. Abruptly, Kevin got in the car just as Dave got in his truck. Their engines started and off they went into the night.

The very next evening, Dave and Kevin worked together at Rimsky Manor. Kevin struggled with some of the dock work and some residents were scared of Dave. But they seemed to compliment each other more and more and gradually, the volunteer assignment didn't seem so difficult.

.

 **TWO YEARS LATER**

.

"I don't know, maaaan!"

"Listen Dave," Sam Evans said, "you like him, right? Just ask him out!"

"It's not that simple, Sam."

"Why not?"

"Well, first off, I don't even know for sure that he's even gay."

"Um, excuse me?"

Dave looked at the incredulous expression on Sam's face but didn't say anything.

"Oh, he's gay Dave. You're not that clueless."

"Well, he hasn't said anything."

"Neither have you!"

"Well," Dave exasperatedly, standing up, "how do you know?"

"Well, duuuh!" Sam said. When Dave just looked at him, the blonde boy went on. "Dave, just shut up and ask him out. The kid is gay. You like him and he likes you. Just…go for it!"

"It's not that simple, Sam." Dave said. After a quick peek around the locker room, realizing they were alone, he added, "It's easier for straight guys to ask a girl out. But I can't…flirt or whatever with him."

"Seems to me you already have." Sam nonchalantly said.

"What do you mean?"

Sam got up and walked over to the free weights. "Well…you spend a lot of time with him, right? And you smile more than ever when he's around. And even people like ME disappear when Kevin's around."

"So?"

"Oh my God, Dave! You are so clueless! He _LIKES_ you. He's talked about you in glee."

"He…he has?" Dave asked, walking over towards him.

Sam began inspecting some of the twenty pound weights. "Yeah. He mentioned that you volunteered with him and that you've helped him with his math homework."

"Well, that's what friends do, Sam."

"Dave! Listen! It's not what he said, but how he said it! Kevin had this HUGE smile, I mean HUGE smile on his face when he talks about you. And he looks forward to studying with you."

"I…I had no idea."

"Yes, you did."

"Sam, you are such an asshole!"

The blonde blew him a kiss and laughed. "Dave, just do it. Just ask him! I think he wants you to."

"What makes you say that?!"

Just then, the locker room door opened and Artie wheeled in.

"Hi Artie!" Sam said.

"Hey, Sam."

Artie looked at Dave and nodded, who acknowledged him back. Then, Artie grabbed something from a locker and quietly left the room. Dave made a quick check to see that he was gone and then returned to Sam.

"But Sam-"

"Jesus Christ, Dave!" Sam exclaimed, standing up. "You're worse than a girlfriend! I'm not even gay but if I was, I'd be on Kevin in a minute!"

Stunned, Dave looked at him and then started laughing. Sam joined in and it was the comic relief they needed in that dark, smelly room that day.

"Oh, alright." Dave finally conceded. "But-"

"Shut up and go. You're giving me the vapors."

Just then, Sam farted.

"Oh God!" Dave exclaimed while Sam laughed. "I'm outta here. Thanks asshole!"

"You're welcome, Yogi!"

Dave left. He wore a little smile on his face for a long time until he reached his truck in the parking lot. He fired off a text and got a reply pretty quickly. Dave Karofsky knew where he was headed next. Actually, the drive was pretty short. The route had been easily memorized over the past two years and he even knew to park on the street in front of his house. Just as he was about to knock on the door, it opened.

"Dave!" Kevin said. "You sure got here quick!"

"Y-yeah." Dave said and walked past him into the house. Kevin shut the door and followed him into the living room. "Where are you parents?"

"At work. They get home in about a half an hour."

"Oh."

Silence. Dave looked around and one of Kevin's eyebrows went up.

"So," Kevin said, "do you want anything to drink?"

"Wannagoseeamovie?"

"Um, what?"

Dave closed his eyes but held his head up. "Do you… Do you wanna…go…?" Kevin halfway smiled but kept his mouth shut. Dave swallowed and finally opened his eyes. He saw the little smile on the blonde kid's face and started to relax. "A movie?"

Kevin's smile slowly vanished and he looked at the big kid, who suddenly seemed so small and frail. Barely a second went by before he said, "Yeah!"

Dave's eyes widened. "Oh my God! I didn't think you'd say yes! I mean, I hoped and I wondered…"

"Sounds good."

"Really? Um, OK. Well, we can go see whatever you want. I'll pay! And we can see if there's a cool independent movie that you'll like-"

"Sounds good."

"-because I know you love those. And we can go this Saturday and what time's your curfew? I'll have you home before-"

"Dave!"

The big rambling boy came to a stop and Kevin took the opportunity to walk up to him. Dave was at least five inches taller than him and Kevin dared to get right in his personal space.

"Dave…"

"Yeah?"

Closer…closer…

"Sounds…good…"

"OK."

Lips met. Tentative. Soft. Scared. Oh, so scared. But they connected and their first kiss went no further than that. They didn't embrace each other or even lift their hands. All they knew was that they were going to see a movie together that Saturday night. And that they probably had more school and volunteer work to do. But that could wait. Kissing was more important.

Slowly, timidly, Kevin pulled back, resting his feet on the floor again. Dave stared into his eyes and they just stared at each other. A little grin wormed it's way onto Kevin's face and Dave looked at him curiously.

"What?" Dave quietly asked.

"I was wondering when you were going to ask me out."

"Were you?" Dave asked. And finally, _FINALLY_ , Dave's arm reached around the slender lower back of Kevin Hargenson and pulled him even closer.

"That's right." Kevin placed his hands on Dave's forearms. "And let's see… A movie. Hmmmm… I wanna see…" He turned his head for a moment and then right back with a glorious smile. "something you'll hate!"

Dave groaned and Kevin laughed!

"Well, I'm relieved." Dave said. "I…I don't know what took me so long."

"Frankly," Kevin said, "I just wasn't sure you were gay or I would've asked you out."

"And I wasn't sure about you." Kevin looked at him oddly and Dave relented. "I know. I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not. You're just a teenage boy in middle America who's trying to figure his way in life. Like me! So, you can't always know these things. But trust me Dave. I'm gay."

"So am I."

They smiled again, just as they heard the garage doors opening on the other side of the house.

"Shit." Kevin muttered. "My parents are home." He started to take a step back but Dave gripped Kevin's back, restraining him.

"One more…" Dave whispered. Kevin smiled and they kissed again. But this time, there was a little more urgency, more attention to how their lips felt and how they wanted more and more. It wasn't a very long kiss but it was enough. They separated and then Kevin reached for Dave. They held each other for a long while until they were forced to remove their hands. And the entire time they hugged, Dave thought, _DAMMIT SAM. I HATE IT WHEN YOU'RE RIGHT._

Suddenly, Kevin pulled Dave through the living room, into the foyer, and out onto the front porch. Inside, Kevin's parents were just now coming in through the kitchen.

"So," Dave said when they were walking towards Dave's car, "Need any help with homework tonight."

"No. I'm good. I just have a paper to write and some algebra. Algebra, for some strange reason, just isn't as hard as it used to be."

Dave smiled at him and Kevin returned it. And then, Dave's eyebrows furrowed.

"Kevin, do your parents know you're gay?"

"Yes, they do. But they don't know about you. Which is why I got you out of there."

Dave flashed a charmed smile at Kevin and the boy looked up at him with admiration.

"Thank you, Kevin. When I'm ready, I'll do it. Just…not now." Kevin nodded. And then, that moment came when they wanted to hug each other goodbye. And couldn't. Instead, they just smiled at each other, as the late afternoon sun got lower in the sky. Dave noticed that sunlight sometimes gave Kevin's eyes an even more violet color than before.

"Well, bye Kevin."

"See ya' Dave."

"OK. See ya' tomorrow at school."

"You got it."

And then, Dave turned, got in his car and left. As he drove, he realized two things. One, he was seriously going on a date with a boy. And two, he knew Kevin was _DEADLY_ serious about seeing a movie he would probably hate.

.

 **AN: I hope you all liked that? Please let me know what you thought? Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: HI EVERYBODY!**

 **Once again, thank you for the wonderful reviews and support! This is an important story to me and you're making it all that much more! Thank you! X3!**

 **Here we jump back to the past and see how Dave and Kurt are adjusting to civilian life. Of course, life isn't easy for most veterans. And we see more of Quinn and Azimio here too.**

 **ENJOY! Please review. Please be kind. Thank you! :)**

 **HAVE A NICE DAY-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3x3**

 **Chapter 18**

"C'mon Kurt! Movie starts in twenty minutes!"

Dave didn't hear anything from upstairs and he headed to the banister, calling out Kurt's name again. Still, nothing. So, pulling himself up the stairs, he walked down the hall to their room and opened the door.

"Kur-!" Dave started, but then stopped. Kurt was staring at the wall. He was so close to it that it looked like he was a bad boy stuck in the corner in class. Kurt appeared to be muttering or something and tracing the yellow, Edwardian wallpaper with his index finger. Dave narrowed his eyes and took a few steps closer.

"Kurt?"

The smaller guy whirled around. "Oh! What's up?"

"We've gotta go," Dave slowly began, "the movie starts soon. Are you OK?"

"Yeah. Fine."

Kurt crossed the room and gathered a windbreaker. Dave watched him carefully but said nothing further. Kurt left first followed by his boyfriend. And when they got downstairs, Kurt put his coat on and asked, "I know it's your pick, but what are we seeing?"

Dave smiled. "I saw the advertisements for it on TV. It looks pretty cool. It's called 'Star Wars.'"

"Sci-fi?"

"Yup! Lots of cool space battles!"

"Great."

"Awwwwww," Dave began, squeezing Kurt's shoulders from behind, "you'll love it."

"Uh huh."

"Dad!" Dave yelled. Kurt, despite his hearing loss, shook from the sudden sound.

"Yeah?!" Paul hollered from the living room.

"We're headed out!"

"OK!"

But Kurt took a step towards the living room and Paul was seated, reading the newspaper. His feet were propped up and his belly was used to set the paper up.

"Bye, Paul."

"Kurt."

Nothing else was said. So, Kurt turned and the boys left. Soon, they'd be inundated with blasts and cannonfire that was of a far different nature.

.

"C'mon baby. I've got you! Hold on! Hold on, baby!"

Dave struggled as he carried Kurt out of the theatre. Kurt was shaking uncontrollably, eyes horrifyingly wide. His back was rigid and his fingers were ghastly curled. The boy shook in Dave's arms and Dave wound up needing help from an attendant just to get him to his truck. They carefully put Kurt in the backseat and Dave distractedly thanked him. That's when the truck took off at high speed, towards Lima Memorial Hospital.

Upon arrival, Dave ran into the emergency room. "We need a gurney! _NOW!"_

Dave ran back and just as he started scooping Kurt's wobbly body in his arms, the first of the nurses arrived with a gurney. They took it from there and Dave all but collapsed right then and there.

A few moments later, after parking the truck, Dave was in the room with Kurt. They stabilized Kurt with some Tegretol and an IV drip. The doctor was checking his pupils when he heard Dave come in.

"Who are you?" he gruffly asked.

"I'm his…friend."

"Is your friend epileptic?"

"No."

"Has he ever had a seizure before?"

The question struck Dave as odd and the doctor yelled for a response. "N-no! That's what a seizure is?"

"I'm afraid so. What were you doing when this happened?"

"We were watching 'Star Wars'."

The doctor came to a halt, shutting off his little flashlight. Then, he stood up and coldly stared at Dave.

"Are you vets? From Vietnam?"

"Yes."

The doctor sneered. "This looks like combat fatigue."

"What?"

"Nurse! I need a social worker in here!"

"Yes, doctor."

And with that, the annoying physician and nurse left them. Dave was more confused than ever and Kurt was just then starting to come around. The bigger guy all but ran beside him and braved holding his hand.

"Kurt? Kurt?"

The boy had trouble focusing his eyes and his IV hand immediately went to his head. He wriggled a little and Dave pressed a hand to his belly.

"No, Kurt. Stay still. It's OK. Shhh. It's OK."

Dave stroked Kurt's arms in the hope of soothing him somehow. Once in a while, Dave scratched his jaw and then returned his hands to Kurt's vulnerable form. The sterile surroundings seemed to glare at them. The harsh lights cast an ugly glow on the room and Dave found himself scratching his neck.

Suddenly, a woman with brown hair came into the room with a clipboard.

"Mr. Hummel?"

Kurt looked at her but couldn't really talk much. So, Dave answered for him.

"He's Kurt Hummel."

"I see. And you are…?"

"I'm Dave Karofsky. His…friend."

"I see." She walked in and sat down as if the room was hers. "My name is Doris. I'm a social worker here." She looked at Kurt. "It appears you have combat fatigue."

"So, he said." Dave darkly said, rubbing his cheek.

"I think he's right." Doris said. "I've seen it before in other Vietnam vets. Boys come back with all kinds of health issues. Combat fatigue is just one of them." Then, she peered at Dave more closely. "How long have you had that acne?"

"Acne?!" Dave all but yelled. He touched and suddenly, he could feel the bumps along his jaw, cheeks, and even his neck. "I…I don't know."

"How long were you both in Vietnam?"

"Two years."

She wrote it down. "And Kurt too?"

"I said, yes."

She wrote that down too. "And were you ever wounded?"

Kurt finally spoke. "W-we b-both were."

"Kurt," Dave began, "don't talk. Just rest. I can handle this."

"I think Mr. Hummel can speak for himself."

"Well, you don't know shit, lady!"

"Mr. Karsky, I'm only here to help Mr. Hummel. If you are going to be a problem, I can have you escorted out. You're not blood relatives, I take it."

Dave glared at her but remained silent. Sensing victory, Doris continued.

"Mr. Hummel? I think you should sign up for counseling with the Veterans Administration. You had a seizure and you don't have seizure disorder. That's unusual. Here's my card." She handed him a card, but Dave snatched it out of her hand! " _Mr. KARSKY!"_

"It's Karofsky!"

"I am here for Mr. Hummel, not you!" She returned her attention to Kurt. "Please use this card to call for counseling. I think you'll need it." And with that, she got up and started out of the room. But just as she reached the door, she stopped.

"Mr. Karsky?"

"What?!"

"You may want to get that acne checked out. If it's what I think it is…"

She left. And Dave had way too many concerns on his hand at the moment for a little acne problem.

.

Over the course of the next few days, Dave and Kurt were pretty much inseparable. Dave practically had to force Kurt to call off work at his two jobs and Dave checked on him almost every hour. Kurt grew tired of the attention and would try to do things around the house. But at every turn, it always seemed like Dave was there to get in the way and do it for him.

"I'm going back to work, Dave."

"Are you sure? I mean, are you OK?"

"I've _BEEN_ OK for the past day or so. I have to get back to work."

"Speaking of work, you know you don't have to-"

"I know, Dave! But I like running the glee club at McKinley and helping my dad at the shop. And selling paintings has been a passion of mine for a while." Then, he looked up into those protective hazel eyes. "Don't try to take my passions away from me."

"I'm not! I just… I don't want…"

Kurt put a comforting hand on Dave's shoulder. "I know. But I'm OK. I really am. I just can't see any movies with flashing lights anymore."

"But that's not…"

"What?"

"Well, how come I can and you can't?"

"Combat fatigue, as the VA explained, isn't the same for everyone."

Dave looked away, unsatisfied with that answer. But he was hardly in a position to hold his boyfriend back. So, in the end, he relented.

"Alright, Kurt. I mean, it's not up to me anyway, is it?"

Kurt smiled. "No, you stubborn Russian. It isn't."

Dave laughed and put his arms around Kurt's waist. "Well, just as long as you're sure." He dipped his head towards Kurt's lips but the smaller guy put a finger over Dave's mouth!

"Nnh-uhh. I have to get dinner started."

"Awwwwwwwww…."

Kurt laughed and Dave grinned. And beyond them, Paul watched with a little smile on his face.

Later, when Quinn found out what happened, she was there nearly every day. Paul's face brightened whenever he saw her Impala drive up towards the farmhouse. Dave sometimes groaned when he saw all of the food, vodka, flowers, spices, and clothes she brought, but accepted them nonetheless. And Quinn and Kurt spent HOURS together, when Kurt wasn't working. Aparativs and dinners turned into glorious events and everyone was always a little sad whenever Quinn had to go.

One day, Quinn was helping Kurt organize a strange and simple painting by somebody named Andy Warhol for a sale. She watched him gently wipe a cloth over the image and wanted to help.

"Why is that soup can orange?" Quinn asked.

"It's red."

"OK. Red?"

"Because…" Kurt began, standing back up. "It's what red is. Energy. Fire. And capitalism."

"Oh…OK."

Kurt laughed a little. "I know. I don't quite get it either, but it's pretty far out."

"Yes, it is." She turned to make some tea. "I think it would be better if it were another color."

"Like orange?"

"I don't know. Orange is kinda ugly."

"But orange is unique."

That stopped Quinn in her tracks and she turned around. "How so?"

"Well," Kurt set the painting aside and went to the kitchen table, soon joined by Quinn, "isn't it amazing that two ugly colors like red and yellow can make such a useful color? I mean, orange isn't very nice to look at, but it's the color of the sun. It's the color of life." Quinn watched, fascinated. But Kurt continued. "Imagine. You're in a field working hard-"

"Like Dave and Paul."

"Sure. Them. Anyway, you're exhausted and you need a little pick-me-up. What do you do? You don't stare at those posters that say 'Today is the first day of the rest of your life', do you?"

Quinn snickered. "No!"

"That's right. You look at the sun. And you see how brilliant it is. How alive! THAT's why I like orange…even though it's a hideous color."

Quinn just stared at him. "Why, Kurt Hummel. Who knew you were such a philosopher?"

"Me? No. I just like colors."

Quinn giggled and got up when the kettle started whistling. She began pouring hot water into two teacups.

"I want you," Quinn said, "to try this tea. I think you'll like it. A co-worker recommended I try it." She set the cups down and Kurt began to take a sip. "Not now! It's too hot. Let it cool."

Kurt smiled. "Who's the co-worker?"

"Oh, he's just this guy I work with down at the store. His name is Azimio Adams."

"Strange name."

"Yeah. He's black. But he's groovy."

"Groovy."

They shared a heartwarming smile. Kurt checked the clock and realized he had over an hour to kill before the art sale. So, instead, he focused his energy at the slow, lazy steam that flowed from his teacup. The thin cloud flowed into the air and dissipated before his very eyes. He found himself looking at the ceiling, trying to find where the steam eventually drifted off to, but couldn't find it. He kept looking and looking. As he stared, he could see the steam change colors – first white, then orange, and finally, black. So dark that light never penetrates it. Black that never has life in it. Black that envelops and consumes you to the point of being eaten. A darkness that holds your life in place and will not release you.

"Kurt?"

He snapped his head back to her. "Yeah?"

"You OK?"

"Oh. Yeah. I'm OK."

"You sure?"

"Quinn," Kurt patiently began, "I'm not having a…seizure. I was just watching the steam drift up towards the ceiling."

"Oh. OK."

They enjoyed their cups of tea together. Other conversations filled the air for a while until it was time to go. When Kurt stood up, he swore he finally found that steam he'd been looking for.

.

"Make sure you get that peanut butter I like."

"Oh, shut up Dave. I'll get it for you."

"Well! I like it!"

"Want me to pick up some tampons for you too?"

"Shut up!"

They laughed and Kurt just had to elbow Dave's ribs a little bit as they walked from the parking lot towards McKinley Market. The grocery store was one of the biggest in Lima. But there was another reason they were at this particular store. And it turned out to be something that would change the course of their lives forever.

"Are you sure," Dave said, looking bothways for oncoming traffic, "Quinn's working today?"

"Yes. She's working the customer service counter. She hates it."

"Oh boy."

"Dave, it won't take long. And we've been thinking about this for a while, haven't we?"

"Yes," Dave said, holding the door open. Kurt entered and Dave quickly followed. "I just hope she isn't too bitchy when we ask her."

They walked into the cool, open-air store. After spotting the customer service desk, they headed straight towards it.

"She can handle herself, Dave. She's just-"

"Well, you can't redeem double coupons after they're expired!"

Dave and Kurt came to a halt when they saw Quinn arguing with a customer.

"Don't you tell me," an angry woman said to Quinn, "that these are expired!"

"Ma'am," Quinn said, obviously trying to keep calm, "you cut the expiration date off. You can't even use-"

"I know what I can use and what I can't and goddammit I demand to be able to use these and where's the goddamn manager?! I know what I have with me and I will not be told what I can and can't do, you blonde teenybopper! And where in the sam hell is that manager?!"

Dave and Kurt each took a step back as Quinn threw her hands up in the air and made a phone call for the manager. Then, she stepped aside and let the angry woman go off. At least thirty seconds passed and Quinn was still frozen in place. She didn't even bother to look up and see that Dave and Kurt very carefully scooted right in front of her.

"H-hi Quinn." Dave said.

Her head snapped up. "Please tell me you have vodka on you."

"Sorry. No."

"How about a gun?"

"No."

"I need a break."

Hurling her apron off, she whisked out of the service desk and walked outside. Dave and Kurt followed. Outside, Quinn sat on the top of one of the picnic tables for sale and stared off into the countryside. Dave and Kurt looked at each other and then sat down near her.

"Tough day?" Kurt asked.

"Actually no." Quinn answered. "That's…that's pretty normal for customer service. That's why I make $4.50 an hour now. Woo hoo!"

Dave said nothing but Kurt looked at her sympathetically. Quinn just smiled at them both.

"So, what brings you here?" Quinn asked.

"Well, Quinn," Dave scooted a little closer to her. On her other side, Kurt did the same, "there's something we wanted to ask you."

Her head ping-ponged between them and she quickly got curious. "OK. What?"

As she waited for her answer, an employee had been sweeping in a nearby alcove of the store. From his angle, he could see Quinn and Kurt, but not Dave. He'd been keeping an eye on her lately and decided to drift over a little closer.

"Well, Quinn…" Dave repeated, and then stopped. He scratched his head and their observer watched more intently, now seeing the other guy. "It's like this… See…"

"Dave," Kurt said with a small sigh, "just ask her."

"Ask me what?" Quinn asked.

The observer, who wore a McKinley Market badge with the name 'Azimio' on it, pretended to be checking a vending machine. But he kept his eyes on them.

"Alright." Dave resolutely said. "Quinn? Kurt and I… We want… We want to be…"

"What?!" Quinn annoyingly asked.

"Will you be a surrogate for us?" Kurt asked.

Quinn and Azimio's jaws dropped. The question came out so suddenly, so abruptly. No hesitation from Kurt, even though Dave couldn't get the words out. A soft breeze blew some of Quinn's long hair in her face and she gently pushed it back. Azimio went completely still.

"You?" Quinn asked. "You two want…" she lowered her voice, "to raise a child?"

"Yes." Dave resolutely said. "We've thought about it for some time and we want to do this. The farmhouse is big enough and we want a family." Kurt proudly smiled at him.

But Quinn had her doubts. "Is that even legal?"

"Sure it is!" Kurt said. "We just…" and then, he facial expression soured, "we just can't be both the fathers on the child's birth certificate. Damn breeders."

"And," Dave began, "we realize this puts a physical burden on you. And we don't want to hurt you or have you change-"

"I don't think," Quinn said, standing up and turning around, "that my boyfriend would like this too much."

"You're still seeing him?" Dave asked.

Across the way, Azimio watched them like it was a soap opera unfolding.

"Yes!" She said. And then, her voice calmed down a little. "Sort of."

Dave got up and Azimio took a step closer to them.

"What's wrong, Quinn?" Dave asked. And there was that tone – that tone in his voice that spoke of protectiveness and love and all the right things a father should have. She turned and smiled at him.

"I just…I don't know what's going on with us, Dave. I just know that he wouldn't like it."

Nobody said a word for a long while. Azimio abandoned his pretend work and just watched. He'd never heard of two queers raising a child but he'd seen some unusual things in his life. Kurt and Dave didn't quite know what to do. But it was Quinn who came to their rescue.

"Alright. I'll do it." She said.

"You…you will?" Dave hopefully asked.

Across the way, Azimio sadly smiled and resumed his sweeping.

"Yes. I'll do it. I don't care about him anymore. Besides, I don't know if he's screwing around or not. And…" she placed a hand on each of Dave and Kurt's arms, "if this is what you truly want, then how can I refuse?"

Dave nearly cracked a few vertebrae in her back with a sudden hug. Caught off guard, Quinn had to beat his back a few times until he loosened his grip. They held each other in that busy parking lot that day. Kurt watched, hands clasped. And when those two finally separated, she hugged Kurt.

"Thank you, Quinn." He whispered.

"Of course. I'd be happy to."

Azimio half-nodded and went back inside. But the other three did a group hug that would certainly leave some marks somewhere. Kurt and Quinn had happy tears in their eyes. Dave even looked away for a second.

After Dave and Kurt left, Quinn went back to the customer service booth as Azimio was setting up a display of baked beans.

"Az!" Quinn said.

"Yeah?"

"Come here!"

Azimio knew what was coming. Yet, he dutifully trotted over to his friend at the customer service desk. It was hard for him to look at her, but he did it anyway.

"Yeah?"

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna be a surrogate!"

"You are?" Azimio asked, with the acting presence of Shakespeare.

"Yes! Now, I know you know Dave but you may not know everything about him. And he's-"

"Gay."

Quinn looked surprised. "He told you?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, he and his boyfriend Kurt want to have a child and they asked _ME_ to be a surrogate! Isn't that exciting?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is Quinn. It really is. I'm happy for you."

"You don't sound too excited."

Azimio checked himself and broadly smiled. "I _AM_ really happy for you and them!"

"I know! And I just know they'll be great parents."

"Yeah, I'm sure they will." Then, Azimio cleared his throat. "Listen, I gotta finish up this display stand before-"

"Oh yes! Go, go! I gotta get back to work too. See ya'!"

"See ya', Quinn."

She was lost in her happy thoughts. Her day suddenly brighter, it didn't seem like she needed any vodka or a gun when dealing with her customers. And Azimio simply finished the display and left.

.

 **AN: Thank you all for reading. Let me know your thoughts.**

 **As for my other stories. I know some of you are patiently waiting and I appreciate your patience with me. I am going to be focusing on some stories I haven't updated in a while. So this one won't be updated for a little bit. I am taking a mini break from this to focus on two other stories I haven't updated. I apologize for the wait. Anyway thank you all for reading and I hope you understand. I'll be back to this as soon as I can. Thank you all for the support. :) Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: HI EVERYBODY! I'm really sorry I haven't updated this in a while. Thank you all soooooo much for sticking with this! Your reviews and support mean A LOT! X3**

 **For all of you who have been wondering about Kurt? Well, we're getting there. And we FINALLY learn more.**

 **Also, we have more of Azimio, Quinn, Dave Sr. and Jr., and Kevin. All of these characters are important here.**

 **ENJOY! And please review. Please be kind.**

 **HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3x3**

 **Chapter 19**

"Now…I'm not…quite…sure."

"Why not, Kevin?"

"Well…" he crossed the long kitchen to put some bread back in the refrigerator. "it seems like something's really wrong with him."

"Well, we don't know that. We just know that grandpa wants us to meet him."

"Do you?"

"Yeah! I've heard about this mysterious Kurt Hummel for a while now. I've heard he's this great guy who was an artist and loved working on cars and loved painting. He was my grandpa's first love and he-"

"Alright, alright." Kevin interrupted. "But something tells me…something's not right."

"And besides," Dave Jr. said, slowing crossing the kitchen towards him, "I'm worried too. I mean, I know this guy is important to my grandpa and my family, but it does feel a little weird."

"Yeah, it does."

"But that's not going to stop me."

"Just as long as this is…" Kevin sighed. "the right thing to do."

"Don't let your anxieties get to you, babe." Dave said.

"They're not!" Kevin defensively said.

Immediately, the bigger boy took a few steps to him. "OK, OK. It's just…he seems like an important member of my family, somehow, and I want to meet him. Grandpa invited us too and I don't want US to disappoint him."

"Guilt." Kevin said with a sigh. "Oh, I had no idea you were so good with guilt trips."

"Shut up!"

" _YOU_ shut up!"

"Shut up you stubborn brat!"

" _YOU_ shut up you stubborn Russ-!"

Of course, Kevin couldn't finish his sentence. That's when Dave Jr. grabbed his face and kissed him. Passion flowed into each of them and arms locked. They held onto each other tightly as their bodies fell flush against each other.

"Ready?"

Both boys immediately separated and wiped their mouths when Dave Sr. entered the kitchen. But the old man simply walked through the kitchen towards the door and gruffly said, "Let's go."

The boys had to hurry to keep up.

Soon, they were on State Route 81 headed towards Lima. Dave Sr. drove his old Ford Ranger, while Dave Jr. and Kevin sat in the back. Nerves were bouncing along with the bumps in the road and no one was speaking. The radio was turned off and the silence made the situation worse. Kevin glanced at Dave Jr., who was biting a thumbnail and looking out the window. He knew that look and knew what to do.

Suddenly, Dave Jr. felt his other hand snatched up and he looked at his boyfriend. The absolutely strongest, supportive smile adorned the blonde boy's face and Dave Jr. felt like he could breathe a little better. Almost instantly, they smiled at each other and squeezed their hands. And by the time they reached the Lima city limits, they were a little more relaxed. A little.

Of course, they had no idea Dave Sr. knew exactly what was going on. He'd been spying on them in his rearview mirror. But he found it exceedingly difficult to look at them.

"Hey boy!" Grandpa Karofsky said, rubbing his neck and chest.

"Yeah?"

"Come up to the front seat. I may…need you to drive."

"Um, OK."

So, just past Sugar Street in Lima, Dave Sr. pulled over and the boy pulled his hand out of his boyfriend's grasp. Then, he slid into the passenger seat, put on the seat belt, and they were off again.

"Where are we going?" Kevin asked.

Dave Sr. didn't answer. Instead, he turned onto Robb Avenue and headed west. The setting sun was in their eyes and Dave Jr. eyed his grandfather carefully. He'd been silent for quite a while now and even his rough request to sit in the front seat seemed odd.

As the crossed State Route 309 towards Elida, they suddenly found themselves turning north. And they were leaving Lima.

"Hey!" Kevin asked. "Where ARE we going?"

"Grandpa?"

But Dave Sr. wasn't talking. Instead, he had a pained expression on his face. His left hand was clasped over his heart and his jaw locked. Dave Jr. glanced at his boyfriend and then back at grandpa. And just as they crossed into the countryside on the north side of Lima, their concern only grew.

"Grandpa? Where are we going?"

"I…" Dave Sr. began. But his hand clasped harder and harder over his chest, his eyes glossed, his body shaking suddenly so badly that that he could hardly focus!

"Grandpa!"

That's when Dave Sr. fell to the side, unable to drive.

"Oh shit!" Dave Jr. roared. He slid over and pulled his grandpa's leg off the accelerator. Then, he pulled the truck over and applied the brakes. Kevin put his hands on Dave Sr.'s shoulders to stabilize him as suddenly, the old man began to cry! Dave Jr. was completely freaked and could barely get the truck to come to a stop. But when he did, he immediately slammed it into 'Park' and looked his grandfather over.

Meanwhile, Kevin got out and ran over to him from the outside. And as he looked up, he couldn't believe where they were. In front of them stood an imposing structure that often housed people who were very, very sick.

"Why are we all the way out here?" Kevin said aloud. Then, he immediately looked in at the Karofsky's.

"Grandpa! Grandpa!"

"I…" Dave Sr. took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he simply said, "Take me home." Then, he abruptly got out of the truck and nearly walked over Kevin to get in the backseat. He plopped down with a grunt and stared ahead, staring at absolutely nothing.

Dave Jr. and Kevin looked at each other and Kevin pointed at the facility. Dave looked and was instantly confused. That's when a horrible, dawning realization came over them. They slowly turned their heads and looked at each other. But then, concern over Dave Sr. overrode their situation and Kevin immediately darted into the passenger seat. Once his seatbelt was secure, he looked at his boyfriend.

"Go."

Off they went. Kevin kept his eye on Dave Sr. while the boy drove home. They had to go through the Lima side streets one more time and they all just wanted to get the hell out of there.

"I…" Dave Sr. staggered. "I'm s-sorry, boys."

"Don't be, Dave." Kevin compassionately said. In fact, he braved placing his hand on the old man's wrist. "Don't be-"

Suddenly Dave Sr. removed his hand! "Don't! Just…don't."

"OK."

Dave Jr. bounced between watching the road and the rearview mirror. He knew that one of the first things his grandpa would ask for when they got home was Stolichnaya. And he wondered if that was right.

.

"Don't ask him about it."

"I won't…will you?" Kevin answered, pulling a bottle of vodka from the cupboard without being asked.

"No! Just…don't ask him."

"I said I won't, Dave."

"OK, OK."

Kevin crossed the room with the bottle and grabbed a shot glass.

"Maybe he shouldn't have that." Dave quietly said.

"Not now, Dave."

Kevin left the room, headed towards the living room. Dave followed. In that room, Dave Sr. stared off into space, lost between memories and all that follows. He watched nothing and couldn't focus. Dave Sr. didn't even react when he heard Kevin pouring a shot for him. Kevin set the full shot glass on the table but kept the vodka bottle in his hand.

"Here." Kevin said, pushing the glass closer to him. Dave Sr. said nothing. "Want me to put something on the record player?" No response. "Are you hungry?" Silence. "Would you like a pillow for your hip?" More silence. So, Kevin took the initiative.

Despite how it may not have applied to this situation, Kevin put the '1812 Overture' on the stereo. Dave Jr. crossed the room and adjusted the light over his grandpa's head so it wasn't in his eyes so much. Kevin saw some crumbs from that day's lunch on Grandpa Karofsky's leg and brushed them off. Dave Jr. made sure the heat was turned up and even brought a blanket from the closet in case the old man needed it.

But the catatonic man simply sat there. Non-responsive. Dead to the world.

Dead to life.

Dead to love.

Dead to anything that one normally holds important.

But there's something about music that can change all of that. And when the unified strings and flutes of the 'Overture' began, Dave Sr. seemed to blink. And then, blink some more.

For the next few minutes, it was as if everyone's life was holding on line one. They carefully watched the old Russian veteran who was slowly losing himself in the world of ancestral music, the kind that envelops and sweeps you away from all the pain and heartache in a cruel world. One where czars force composers to write an Overture they never wanted to and where Dave Sr. could truly love whom he wanted.

And then, suddenly, Dave Sr. reached for the glass and silently gulped the shot down!

"Skoal…" he whispered.

Dave Jr. was nearly in tears and Kevin stood, his arms around his waist. Meanwhile, the '1812 Overture' continued. The awesome French horns began and Dave Sr. closed his eyes. He could feel the song in his bones and wanted to get up and dance like he once did with Kur-

Suddenly, the old man got up! He crossed the room and left! Dave Jr. and Kevin just stared after him for a moment before they too followed him into the kitchen. That's when they found the old veteran opening the refrigerator. He pulled out a big container of some kind of delicacy and when he closed the door, he stopped when he saw their shocked expressions.

"What?" he gruffly asked. "I'm hungry."

Smiling, Kevin began crossing the room towards him and asked, "Would you like me to heat that up for you?"

"Well, if you want." He roughly answered.

Kevin even laughed a little. "OK. No problem. Go have a seat, Dave. This shouldn't take too long."

"Alright."

Dave Sr. walked over towards the table and sat down. Kevin got to work. And Dave Jr. wiped his eyes, sitting down at the table as well. But when the boy looked at his grandpa, he was a little shocked to see him glaring at him!

"What?" Dave Jr. asked.

"Well?!"

"Well, what?"

"Aparativ boy! And put that song back on at the beginning. And hurry up! You're slow as molasses, boy."

Dave Jr. _AND_ Kevin hid a smile.

.

"Shut up you fool! Quinn is making burgers and you're going to like them!"

"Azimio, you know I prefer my-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Azimio muttered, standing up and reaching for the last of the vodka, "but you can vary it up now. And besides, what's with all this Russian shit? You're American, for God's sakes!"

"Ahhhhhh, shut up!"

"You shut up!"

Quinn watched them from the threshold between the kitchen and living room, shaking her head. Behind her, the boys were getting everything ready. Kevin carefully pulled out the tomatoes, lettuce, onions, even guacamole. Dave was packing the red meat into patties and setting them aside with some seasonings. She pinballed her head between the fools in the living room and the giggling boys in the kitchen. It's amazing when stupid moments like these make you so glad to have a _REAL_ family.

"Aparativ!" Dave Sr. roared from the living room.

"Appratiff!" Azimio said, mispronouncing the word.

"Ahhhhh, it's 'aparativ'. What's wrong with you, huh?!"

"Oh shut up! I just don't want you ruining your liver more than…" he stopped. The party atmosphere took a serious turn for just a second until they heard laughter from the kitchen. Dave Sr., Azimio, and finally Quinn all peered in and could see Kevin was throwing cut vegetables at Dave Jr. Then, the big Karofsky boy started chasing him and Kevin was running around the table to get away from him.

Suddenly, the request for an aparativ wasn't cared about anymore.

Music was played. Azimio insisted Dave listen to some of the music that he liked and Dave hated it. The two friends just argued and argued as more shots of vodka were downed. Dave caught Azimio looking at Quinn in 'that way' and smiled to himself. And the boys were cleaning up their mess from the earlier attack. It looked like Hargenson won.

Dinner was served. The French fries had a curious, hearty taste to them and Dave Sr. and Azimio ate quite a lot. The burgers were big and varied in size and flavor. More shots were tossed down throats, laughs were shared, and everybody enjoyed the evening.

Until dinner was over.

As the boys and Quinn were cleaning up, Dave Sr. took residence in Archie Bunker's chair, the ugly upholstered recliner near the stereo. Azimio brought a bottle of Stolichnaya with him and sat down.

"I wanna talk to you." Azimio began.

"Yeah? What?"

"Go see Kurt."

No hesitation. No softening the blow. No, nothing. It was out there and Dave Sr. looked at him like he was from another planet.

"I…can't."

"Yes, you can."

"I…tried."

"Yeah, I heard."

Dave Sr. glared out into the kitchen. "Those boys have big mouths."

"Dave," Azimio gently began, rubbing his hands together, "do you really want me to go for the jugular?"

"What?"

Azimio sighed. "Quinn's worried too."

"Oh Goooooood!" Dave Sr. yelled and got up. He waddled towards the stereo.

"Please Dave…" Azimio whispered. The big veteran came to a stop, a Stravinsky album in hand. "Please…just do it. You'll…regret it if you don't."

"What makes you think I don't?"

"Huh?"

Dave placed 'Rite of Spring' on the stereo and soon, the passive and violent strings of the orchestra began.

"I mean," Dave Sr. said, plopping back down, "I…already _DO_ regret…"

"Regret what?"

"I…" Dave Sr. couldn't talk. He stared down at his thumbnail and didn't speak. Azimio elbowed him to continue but when he saw his friend approaching despair, he stopped. Instead, Azimio scooted closer.

"Let me tell you a story." Azimio said. He cleared his throat and poured another shot. Behind them, Dave Jr. was eavesdropping. "Do you remember when you and Kurt asked Quinn to be a surrogate?" Dave nodded just as the striking violins hit their ears. "I was there."

The eyes of both Daves widened.

"That's right," Azimio continued, "I heard you ask Quinn about it. I was nearby. I wasn't trying to snoop or anything but at that time, I started to like Quinn." And then, he grinned. "Besides, it's kinda hot to have a smokin' hot blonde be your supervisor!"

"Azimio!"

"Alright, alright… Anyway, it tore me up because I wanted to be with her. And I knew she'd love you and Kurt. I couldn't help but be a little…jealous."

"Awwww, Azeee!"

"Hear me out, Dave." He unnecessarily cleared his throat. "I wanted… I wanted a life with her. And you got it with Kurt. Quinn and I…" he rolled his hands over and over, "we never had kids."

"Az! I never fucked her or any-"

"I know that, you fool! Just listen to me!" Dave stopped talking. Then, Azimio stepped even closer as Dave Jr. did the same. "Kurt loves you. And you love him. And if you let him go like this, that will _TRULY_ be a regret. You don't know what Kurt truly did for you until you can't tell him anymore."

"I…" Dave Sr. looked away and sighed. "I…I just don't know."

"Do it, Dave. Do it. At least once. Who knows? Maybe Kurt will be able to…come home."

Dave Jr.'s eyes widened and he quickly left the room. As he left, he darted down the hall and away from a slowly advancing Quinn from the pantry.

"He's right, Dave." Quinn softly said. She crossed the room and placed her hand on his shoulder, carefully avoiding his acne scars. "He's absolutely right. And you know it."

Dave Sr. just stared off into the room. Another shot was poured and he downed it. And in that moment, David Alan Karofsky Sr. had no idea what he was doing to do.

.

He knew he'd get in trouble. And he didn't care. All he knew was that he was convinced he was doing the right thing. He snatched his grandpa's keys to the Ford Ranger and took the truck. The early morning sunshine blinded him as he revved the engine. It only took a moment for the old truck to get going but when it did, Dave Jr. was outta there.

A few minutes later, he picked up Kevin at his house, kissed him, and off they went.

"I brought some leftovers from last night, if you want some Kevin."

"No, thanks."

Neither spoke. They began the trek to and through Lima. The windows were rolled up and the air conditioner blew cool air towards them. Even the local radio station couldn't get them to talk.

And then, Dave Jr. sighed. "I'm really nervous."

"Me too." Kevin whispered. That's when he reached for Dave's hand, when he wasn't using the gearshift. But still, the moment presented itself and Kevin took it.

"Are…?" Kevin started and stopped. He gulped and said, "I just hope we're doing the right thing."

Dave made a right hand turn onto Sugar Street.

"I do too."

"Are you sure about this?"

Dave passed a car on Robb Avenue and looked over at Kevin. "Oh, yeah. I have to know. I have to know…the truth."

"But…which truth?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, your mom was born from surrogacy. That means that this Kurt guy could've been your…grandpa. Too."

"I know. That's why I want to know."

Kevin squeezed his hand and they drove on. Dave turned onto State Route 309 as the sun was rising higher in the sky. There wasn't much traffic at this time of day and they were grateful for it.

"Left here, Dave." Kevin routed. "I mean, if you…if you really still want to go see…"

"I do."

Dave turned left and off they went. A few minutes later, Dave killed the engine and they stared up at the facility they left the previous day. They looked at each other and sadly smiled.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

They emerged from the truck and approached the modest structure. Two almost cathedral buildings stood side-by-side and there seemed to be only about three or four floors. The cornices housed sharp edges that looked like daggers pointed at the sky. And as they walked towards the structure, they saw the security team checking in morning visitors. It immediately gave Kevin the creeps and they couldn't speak, lost in awestruck silence. They took a few more steps and the overarch nameplate towered over them. Kevin shivered as he read the words. It reminded him of 'arbeit macht frei' in his history textbooks about the Auschwitz concentration camp. He didn't like this one bit.

"Scarlet Towers." Dave Jr. said, reading the nameplate. They looked at each other and then back up at the brick buildings.

"What the hell is this place?" Kevin asked.

.

 **AN: So, Is anyone surprised by this revalation?! What did you think overall? What is this mysterious place? I'd LOVE to know your thoughts.**

 **Next chapter is a flash back. I AM SO EXCITED FOR IT! X3**

 **If you have questions, let me know and I'll answer whatever I can.**

 **Have a great day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: HI EVERYBODY!**

 **Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites and followers. And a special thanks to those of you who have stuck by this story. Your AWESOME!**

 **Thank you Leaper for your reviews! :)**

 **SPECIAL WARNING - this chapter is tense. Dave and Kurt are struggling to live their lives and their daughter Carrie is three years old. Things get bad here. Really bad. You've been warned.**

 **We're in the past again and it's approximately 1980. Quinn, Azimio, and Burt are also in this chapter.**

 **ENJOY! Please leave kind reviews!**

 **HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3**

 **Chapter 20**

"Da da! Da da!"

The little girl waddled over to her dad and he hugged her.

"Good!" Kurt exclaimed. "Good, Carrie!"

The adorable three year old little girl just smiled at him, her teeth white and small. Her brown hair bounced in her short ponytail as she skipped towards the kitchen.

"Daddyyyyy!" She exclaimed happily.

"Hey, baby!" Dave said, throwing a rag into the kitchen sink. And then, he growled his voice a little. "Get over here!"

She giggled and ran up to him. He easily captured her in his arms and he held her tight. After he kissed her on the cheek, he whiskered her. The girl squealed and squirmed in his arms and Dave was loving every minute of it. Beyond them, Kurt stood at the threshold, arms folded and smiling.

"Dave! Let her go!"

"No!" He kept whiskering her and her happy screams drowned out everything else. Finally, he set her down on the floor, towering over her. Her lower lip pouted and she slapped her dad's leg.

"Owwwww…!" Dave exaggeratedly whined. "That hurrrrrt!"

Suddenly, Kurt's eyes went a little wide. "Carrie Elizabeth Karofsky!" She turned to him, her eyes showing fear. "You do not hit your dad. Ever. Got it?"

"O-OK." Carrie said.

"Alright. Now come over here. Your dad and I are gonna take you to a movie soon. Let's get you dressed."

"But," Carrie began, staring down at herself, "I am dressed!"

Dave snickered and Kurt glared at him. He wiped the little smile off his face when he saw his angry boyfriend.

"C'mon, Carrie." Kurt patiently said, "Let's go upstairs. Hurry up! You wanna see 'Fox And The Hound' don't you?"

 _"YEAH!"_

"Well, c'mon!"

Carrie ran to her da da and he snatched her hand. Dave smiled and returned to the sink to finish the dishes. He was trying to scrub out some burnt spanakopita from last night's dinner and the cast iron skillet wasn't cooperating. After quite a bit of elbow grease, he finally got it as clean as it could be. He oiled and heated it and set it back on the shelf. And when he returned to the living room, waiting for them to get ready, he was confronted with an unexpected image.

Carrie was staring up at her da da, her face completely blank. Kurt was standing on the landing, his hand precariously placed on the banister. The cute new father appeared to be staring at the floor or something and Carrie was transfixed by what she saw. But Dave didn't like this one bit. He took a few steps toward them.

"Kurt?"

He didn't respond. Instead, Kurt just kept looking down at the floorboards of the staircase landing. In addition, he was muttering. Nonsensical words came out of his mouth and Dave took another step closer.

"Kurt?" Dave asked again.

Finally, Kurt snapped his head up. He appeared bewildered for just a second until he saw Dave and Carrie staring at him. Then, he embarrassingly smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah. C'mon Carrie. Let's get your orange dress on."

"OK!" Carrie said. She used her hands and feet to climb up the steps and Kurt slowly followed. Dave watched them go, a firm frown on his face.

Days went by like this. Kurt had adjusted quite nicely to farmlife and for Dave it was par for the course. Carrie even helped out the little that she could with some kitchen help. She liked the animals in the barn, but her dad wouldn't let her go there very often. Barns can be dangerous for little kids and he was just being a protective father.

Quinn would occasionally stop by and Paul finished the sale of the farmhouse to his son. The elder Karofsky moved into a condominium on the other side of Lima. He claimed he was done with farmlife, but even parents can see when they need to move on so their children can live their lives.

Sometimes, Quinn looked a little sad. She never said why publicly but Dave could guess what it was – that damn ex-boyfriend of hers had been bothering her lately and she was trying to move on with Azimio Adams. Dave's blood would boil every time he'd see his best friend depressed.

But almost every evening, it was just Dave, Kurt, and Carrie. Their happy little family sung disco songs, which Dave pretended to hate. Sometimes, all three of them danced in the living room, but not very often. One night was a particuarly fun night. Dave was never much of a dancer, so Kurt and Carrie would take the dance floor and Dave thought Kurt always looked hot and that Carrie was the cutest thing he ever saw. He was a proud father and boyfriend. And whenever Dave tried to put one of his Russian symphonic records on the stereo, Carrie and Kurt would groan and Dave would reluctantly replace it with the Bee Gees.

"Come on Dave! Get up and shake your booty!" Kurt extended his hands to grab his boyfriend but Dave sat where he was, refusing to move.

"I am fine right here, babe." Dave took a swig of his beer while Kurt huffed a little in annoyance. He wanted his way and would not be ignored. Suddenly it him like lightning and Kurt had a plan. An evil (but not really) plan. And by God, he WOULD get his way. He knew _EXACTLY_ how to make Dave do what he wanted. Kurt mischievously smiled.

"OK, are you sure you don't want to dance with me? Your loss..." Kurt began to swing his hips very slowly and almost seductively, trying to be as sexy as possible. Kurt even pretended to drop a pen, pick it up, and angle his ass right in Dave's eyeline. To some this might've looked silly and at first it felt silly to Kurt but then he turned around slowly, craning his neck and what he saw didn't surprise him at all.

 _God, he's SO easy! I knew this would work,_ Kurt thought as he looked at Dave who immediately had a hungry, dazed, drunken look in his eyes. His mouth slightly opened, Dave couldn't stop staring at his boyfriend's beautiful body.

It took everything in him not to attack Kurt right then and there.

 _Oh he's good! Kurt, you sexy genius!_ Dave thought as he snapped out of his state of seduction. Dave knew what Kurt was doing and he cursed himself that it worked _EVERY. DAMN. TIME._ He winked at Kurt and Kurt swore his heart fluttered. Dave suddenly got up and swooped him in his arms. Neither said a word. Dave kissed him hard and Kurt didn't mind this at all.

The music continued to play in the background when Dave and Kurt finally parted, panting out of breath. Passion taking over.

Meanwhile Carrie continued to dance her heart out in her own little world not paying attention to her parents.

.

And then there were the nights. Carrie was sawing logs into her own pretty sky and Kurt would caress Dave's facial scars. The bigger boy would scoop Kurt up in his arms and just stare at him, completely befuddled that this amazing boy truly loved him. They'd hold each other in that dark bedroom, surrounded by ugly Edwardian wallpaper and some moldy odors. Kurt's arm languidly lied on Dave's neck and soon lips would connect.

"I'm so happy right now." Dave whispered. Kurt smiled and stroked the side of Dave's face. The bigger boy closed his eyes, falling into the caress. And when they made love, it was always gentle and loving until the tension would push them over the edge into tender aggression. And when that was over, they'd hold each other and sleep, waiting for dawn to invade their eyes.

One morning, Kurt was preparing breakfast, Carrie was trying to help, and Dave was getting a list ready of his daily tasks. They knew farmlife would be hard and it never promises to be easy. But crops were good, livestock were fed, and the boys talked about preschools for Carrie.

"Maybe we should just start waiting until she's ready for kindergarten." Kurt said.

"I suppose." Dave said. "But she'd have a better start in life to-"

"Fuck, fuck, orange, cocksucking, motherfucking, commie bastards…"

Dave's eyes widened. Silently he studied Kurt who was looking down at the kitchen table. Then, Kurt's eyes flashed back up at him.

"Well," Kurt said, "we could always homeschool her and see how she'd do in preschool. Or kindergarten."

Dave couldn't speak. He just stared at his boyfriend and Kurt finally noticed.

"What?" Kurt asked. "I mean, it would be good for her, wouldn't it?"

"Kurt?" Dave so, so softly asked. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah! Why wouldn't I be?" Kurt was just as confused as Dave was.

"You…you just… Drifted off right there." Dave almost started crying but held back.

"No, I didn't." Kurt laughed a little, shrugging. He had no clue what Dave was going on about and frankly Kurt was a little annoyed.

"Yes, Kurt. Yes, you did." Dave said, scratching his acne-lined neck.

"I did?"

"You did."

Kurt looked away, thinking for a second. Then, he smiled. "Dave, I'm fine. I told you I am. Why don't you believe me?"

"Because I can't believe what I just heard…" Dave wanted to scream but held back _SO_ many emotions. This was truly scaring him but he had to be brave for his own sanity.

"What?" Kurt asked, getting up and crossing the kitchen. "That I want Carrie to have a good education too?"

"No." Dave said, staring hard at him. "You just said…what I said to you…when I was carrying you out of the jungle when we were wounded." Dave briefly flashed back to that awful time in his life.

"No, I didn't." Kurt was still in denial at this point.

Dave gave up. He looked down at the table without even staring at it. Kurt came over with a teacup and offered some to Dave, who declined. The smaller guy went on and on about more education options for their daughter and Dave barely listened. Carrie played with her dolls in the other room, completely unaware of their discussion.

Over the next few days, things got worse. Dave would drive Kurt to the Veterans Administration building for counseling and other services. Quinn would always babysit and that's when the little girl was introduced to Azimio. Kurt would sometimes zone out and never completely be himself. But they never lasted long and Dave was told countless times that it was 'combat fatigue'. Dave scratched his acne-laden neck every time he was told.

Others took notice. Quinn, Azimio, even Paul. Carrie seemed oblivious to everything and Kurt's parents suddenly started visiting. There were roundtable discussions where Kurt would get angry with everyone and tell them to leave him alone. But that didn't stop the Hummels – they could be a frustrating, stubborn lot. Almost as bad as Dave.

Kurt finally started getting better. He found himself loving getting back to work in a routine that felt familiar and safe. And whenever he would study art pieces to sell or feed the pigs, he always felt more comfortable with his surroundings. Gone were the horrible flashbacks and he and Dave were happier. There were occasional cramps in Kurt's lower right side, but they went away. Dave always noticed and offered to take him to the doctor. Predictably, Kurt refused.

More time passed. On a Saturday late afternoon, Dave was working in the barn. Kurt had been preparing a bath for Carrie and he was considering what to make for dinner. The Russian soldier fought his own battle with the compost mixer and swore from time to time. And when he got to the shed for more tools, he was surprised to see some of the pigs making _A LOT_ of noise.

He marched over towards them, hating how the late afternoon sun blinded his eyes. The pigs were in a total uproar and even bouncing up and down on their hind hooves. Dave walked right up to them and saw they weren't fed.

"Awwwww, Kurt! Why didn't you feed-?" But he stopped. He looked over at the trough down at the end of the row. His worst fear had been realized.

Carrie was drowning in the drinking water!

He'd never run so fast in his life. The girl was splashing as the pigs circled the metal trough. Dave ran to her and pulled her out. Her eyes fluttered and her hair clung to her pretty orange dress. Dave screamed and screamed!

"Carrie! Carrie!" Dave's world was spinning and spinning, he himself couldn't breathe. His worst nightmare came true. Dave didn't want to feel powerless so he sprung into action. He screamed her name again.

She didn't respond. He did it again and then he turned her over, feeling the cool water fall off her body and onto his rough arm. Almost cruelly, he hit her back over and over. Still, there was no response. Her eyes now were closed and Dave started to panic. He picked her up and started to carry her towards the house.

"Kurt! Kurt!" Dave's voice boomed as he ran with the dying girl in his arms. Carrie's skin was sickly pale and her cheeks were a faint blue. He cursed as he continued running toward the farmhouse. It was a good forty yards away and a terrified tear fell down his cheek. Step by step by painful step, Dave ran screaming his daughter's name over and over…

A cough. Then a violent cough. Dave came to a stop and set her down on the ground, about ten yards away from the front porch.

"Carrie! Breathe baby! Breathe!" Dave shakily but gently swiped a hand over her face to get her hair out of the way.

Dave pressed his mouth to hers and forced air down her throat. That's when his mouth was invaded by the contents of her lungs and stomach and he quickly spit it out. Carrie now violently coughed and started to cry. He turned her on her side so she could breathe better.

"There ya' go, baby… There ya' go…" Relief washed over Dave's body like an ocean.

He soothed her back and held her as still as possible. Kurt was nowhere to be found and Dave felt so alone. But Carrie was alive. Struggling, but alive. He picked her back up and her eyes were now open, albeit with tears. She was OK. She would live.

A huge brick was lifted off Dave and he held his child so close to him, he wasn't letting go.

Dave ran into the house with his daughter in his arms. Cradling her on one side, he wildly kicked the door open with his foot and ran into the house, not caring if he broke the damn thing or not.

 _"KURRRRRT! KURRRRT!"_ Dave's voice was almost giving out.

No response. Dave ran into the living room. No Kurt. He cried up the staircase. Nothing. Then, he ran into the kitchen, the crying girl still in his arms. And there, he found Kurt.

"Orange… Orange… Orange…"

Kurt was methodically painting the ceiling with orange paint. His arms casually expanded with the long paintbrush and he had a strange, ethereal smile on his face. Dave stared up at him, his distressed daughter in his arms and now his boyfriend doing God knows what.

"Kurt! What are you _DOING?!"_

Kurt didn't respond. So, Dave ran with Carrie into the bathroom and grabbed at least four towels. He quickly took off Carrie's pretty orange dress and completely wrapped her like a papoose. Then, he took her upstairs and briefly considered taking her to the hospital. But when you're a gay couple and your child has an accident, he couldn't even consider the possibility of losing her. So, he took her to her bed and set her down.

"Sleep, baby." Dave haphazardly said. "You've…you've had a big day." He quickly kissed her and then ran downstairs.

Kurt was still painting the ceiling as if nothing else in the world was happening. Dave couldn't take it anymore. He screamed. He screamed like an animal that was caught in a trap and couldn't escape. Over and over, he yelled, fists raised to his hair, knees bent, doubled over, back up again, screaming and screaming and screaming!

 _"KURRRRRT!"_ Dave roared. He couldn't do it anymore. There's only so much one human can take and after what just transpired a moment ago... Dave was at his breaking point. Dave fell to his knees and silently sobbed while watching Kurt, powerless to stop whatever was going on with his one true love and almost losing his daughter.

Meanwhile Kurt studied how far he progressed with the ceiling. Then, he slowly descended off the kitchen table and looked up, staring at his handiwork. A pleased smile crossed his face and he wondered if he should make spanakopita again for dinner. Kurt never even noticed or recognized the man crying on the floor. Kurt ignored this strange man and continued to go make dinner for himself.

.

"Who the fuck are you to take him away?!"

"Dave, listen," Burt Hummel said, "my son is a danger to himself and his family. We're taking him somewhere he can get the help he needs."

"And you," Dave roared, "didn't even think of talking to _ME ABOUT IT?!"_

"Frankly no." Burt mildly replied, "We talked to municipal court and got an injunction for Kurt to be safely-"

"He's an adult, Burt." Dave coldly said.

"Mr. Hummel?" Quinn softly asked. "Are you sure this is the only way? There must be other-"

"There are none." Burt sadly said.

Quinn felt a strong, supportive arm around her shoulders and she looked up into the eyes of her large boyfriend, Azimio. But the big boy was glaring at Burt.

"He could still," Azimio said, "get outpatient treatment."

"And then what?" Burt said. "Have another accident? We don't want what happened to…" Burt didn't finish. He looked away.

"Oh, I see." Dave angrily said. "I see. You don't want him to kill your granddaughter, is that it? Or you don't want two guys raising a child? Which is it, Burt?! Because _I HAVE TO FUCKING KNOW!"_

 _"THAT'S MY SON!" B_ urt screamed. "I don't care that he's gay! I've always loved him! And…I don't want him to hurt anyone…"

"Then," Dave painfully pleaded, "let us work with him! He was getting better! He really was! And if he leaves Carrie now, who knows what that'll do to her."

Burt wiped his face. "I'm sorry, Dave. It's been decided. Kurt has to come with us to get the help he needs."

Dave suddenly lunged at him! "I always liked you, but right now? I fucking hate you for taking Kurt away from me!"

The angry Karofsky launched out of the seat and blasted through the front porch door. Dave took a few steps on the porch, seeing the police car that escorted Burt Hummel. He stared off into the distance, unable to see anything in the horizon that could provide hope or happiness or anything. He was so angry!

And when he felt a soft, feminine hand on his shoulder, he couldn't help but feel just slightly calmer. He whirled around and was suddenly captured in Quinn's arms.

"I'm so sorry, Dave…" Quinn painfully whispered, her voice slightly trembled. A tear fell down her cheeks.

Dave slammed his arms around the girl and held her tight. He refused to let tears fall while her own fell on his chest. Azimio stepped out and joined them, creating a bear hug. They were cocooned together against a world that just wasn't fair. The police officer in the car looked away.

"Daddy?"

The big guy turned and looked down at his daughter, who looked afraid. Dave pulled away and squatted down to her.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm scared."

"Of what, baby?"

"There's too many yelling people and they don't like each other. And they scare me."

"Ohhhh, baby." Dave gently clasped her shoulders. "We're just worried about your da da."

"Why are you yelling at each other? I hate it. I hate it! I hate it!" Her own tears came and Dave didn't know what to say. So, he just did what all loving fathers should do – he held her in his arms. She cried from lack of understanding and trauma and Dave finally let one tear fall down his wartorn face. Azimio put his arm around Quinn and she let her head fall on his shoulder. Around them, there was activity in the house while the police officer still wouldn't look at them. A soft breeze blew by and they all knew a change was coming.

"We should go."

Everybody turned to see Burt escorting his son out of the house. Kurt looked dazed with an odd smile and he had a suitcase in his hand. The police officer finally took a few steps towards the farmhouse and Dave angrily glared at him.

"We got this." Dave warned. The cop slowed his pace but didn't stop advancing. Then, Dave turned his attention back to them.

"Da daaaaaa!" Carrie whined.

Kurt looked down and didn't alter that strange smile on his face.

"Well, hi there sweetie!" Kurt looked down confused. Who was this little girl and why was she crying? She was a cutie he thought but he didn't know who this little girl was.

"Da daaaa! Where are you going?" Carrie pleaded.

Kurt looked down at her. "Just remember one thing. Orange." Then, he bent down and hugged the cute little girl that he no longer knew. She clung to him like a Christmas present and wouldn't let go. Suddenly, he was pulled back by the police officer and Dave nearly decked him.

"Daaaa daaaaa!" Carrie kicked and screamed.

Kurt was lead away and Dave pulled her into his arms. She wailed and wailed unable to understand what was happening. Her dad squeezed her even tighter as Kurt tried to pat her head. But he was unable to do that. All too quickly, Kurt was escorted down the porch.

"No! _NO! NOOOO!"_ Carrie screamed over and over. Hiccups engulfed her small frame. Her face was bright red from crying so much and she was struggling to breathe and calm down.

The others couldn't watch or couldn't move either. Kurt, Burt, and the officer all walked towards the police car and got in. And when Dave finally braved looking up in their direction, he mouthed the words 'I love you, Kurt'. Kurt just kept smiling.

.

 **AN: THAT WAS TOUGH. :(**

 **So, now that we all know sort of what happened to Kurt... What are your predictions? What did you think of the chapter?-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3-**


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: HI EVERYBODY!**

 **As promised, here is the next chapter. Thank you sooooo much for your patience! I'm stretched thin between stories but keeping my promise to update is important to me. So here's the next chapter! :)**

 **Thank you to all my support and followers. :)**

 **Here we finally learn more about Kurt and his life as it is now. It's not pretty but war scars can run deep.**

 **Russian translation - 'nagyka' means 'whip'**

 **ENJOY!**

 **Please review. Please be kind**

 **HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3x3**

 **Chapter 21**

As they walked towards Scarlet Towers, you could feel the tension in the air. Visitors went through one entrance. Employees were standing around, smoking or laughing. Stony-faced security guards either looked bored or unhappy. It was as if a great cloud hung over the place and Dave Jr. and Kevin didn't like it. When they got to the door, they were greeted with cold signs –

N **o weapons or sharp objects allowed**

 **You must have a valid ID to enter**

 **No food or drugs of any kind will be tolerated**

 **If you are not allowed in, you will be escorted out**

The place smelled of sterility and old hospitals. The walls were lined with '60s era bricks that were light blue and the floors were an ugly green tile. They approached the first security station where the cocky guard was checking out something on his cell phone. Behind him, a conveyor belt with computer scanners was moving other early morning visitors through.

Dave spoke up. "We're here to see-"

"Name?"

Dave blinked. "Who? Mine?"

The guard quickly got annoyed. "Yours!"

"David Karofsky."

"And yours?" he asked, looking at the other boy.

"Kevin Hargenson."

"IDs?" the guard asked with a severe sigh. The boys produced their state-issued identification cards and the guard coldly took them. He checked them with the proficiency of a notary public and handed them back.

"Now," he began, "who are you here to see?"

"Kurt Hummel." Dave said.

"Seems like he gets visitors every day. Any belongings on you?"

"No." Kevin answered. Dave looked at the guard oddly but didn't say anything.

"Then you can't come in."

"What?" the boys bewilderingly asked.

The guard looked them over and the dipped his head a little. "Just kidding. If you have any metal in your pockets, put them on this conveyor belt."

Dave glanced at Kevin and they were quickly annoyed. They took out their keys, cell phones, and anything else that might've been considered metal. They placed them in a basket and onto the conveyor belt.

"Walk through." The guard said. The boys started towards the metal detectors. "One at a time!"

Dave sighed and went first. Nothing happened. Then, Kevin came through. A little red light and buzzer went off.

"Stop!" the guard yelled. Immediately, he pulled out his metallic wand. "Spread your legs and arms."

Kevin's eyes went wide and Dave looked on helplessly. Meanwhile, the guard waved his metal-detecting device all over Kevin's body. There's a strange kind of violation when you go through this thing, but it's all in the name of security. Dave quickly looked at his surroundings and saw another visitor being wanded in the same way.

Finally, the guard was done. "Nothing. Do you take supplements?"

"Sometimes." Kevin meekly answered.

"Well, don't donate any blood!" the guard quipped and then laughed. He simply walked back to his station. Heavily annoyed, Kevin walked up to Dave and the two went towards the nurse's station. Dave inquired about the one they were looking for and the nurse on duty pointed them in the direction of room 222.

They had to take an elevator. It wobbled a little and the boys just looked at each other. Their surroundings were so unfamiliar and unforeseen that they didn't know to think or expect. Finally, the doors opened and they emerged on the second floor.

Patients milled about. Some were in wheelchairs and others talked to themselves. And still, a strange man just stared out into the Lima countryside, completely unaware of the boys' presence. As Dave and Kevin walked, they could see some residents strapped to the beds and other family members talking to them. Or, trying to.

And then, they came to room 222. The boys glanced at each other and approvingly nodded. The moment they waited for had finally arrived and their nerves were shot. Dave looked pensive and Kevin just looked scared. But when their eyes met, they were convinced they were doing the right thing. They even smiled at each other approvingly.

Then, they pushed open the door…

"Quinn!" Kevin exclaimed.

The boys advanced into the room only to be surprised to see Dave's grandma sitting there. She appeared to have a few bundles on her lap and she slowly stood up, looking at them.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"That's what I'd like to ask you!" Dave said.

"David! What ARE you-?"

"We thought," Kevin said, taking residence near the bed, "we could see…K-Kurt for ourselves. I…WE hope that's OK."

"Your grandpa wouldn't approve," Quinn warningly said, "but you're here now."

Dave glared at her. "Why are _YOU_ here?"

"Because…" Quinn began, but stopped. She brushed some hair out of her eyes and looked up into his. "I've…secretly been coming here for years. Don'ttellyourgrandpa!"

"Grandma! Why didn't you tell me? And where is Kurt?"

"Well, I-" Quinn began but stopped. Just then, the doorknob began to turn. Whoever was on the other side of the door struggled a little with it. Dave and Kevin's heartrates shot skywards and they couldn't take their eyes off the door. Quinn merely watched as finally the knob turned all the way. Slowly, ever so slowly, the door opened…

Kurt emerged from the bathroom. The boys and Quinn stared at him as he walked out. Kurt's head was down as he stared at the doorknob of the bathroom door and then methodically closed it. His back was to them and every single nerve in the room was on fire. Dave felt Kevin's hand fall into his and the bigger boy nearly closed his eyes.

And then, Kurt turned around. The years had been relatively kind to him. He had a little pooch belly and his back was hunched a little. Kurt came to a stop when he saw two strangers in his room. But rather than get alarmed, he smiled. A tooth was missing yet that was still the 'Kurt Hummel' smile that Quinn fell in love with over forty years ago. Dave and Kurt merely stared at him and they could see that Kurt's eyes still sparkled that stunning azure blue.

"You're…" Dave began. "You're…Kurt."

"Yes." Kurt simply said. He slowly walked over to the bed and lied down. Kurt looked up at them and then over to Quinn. "It looks like we have visitors, cookie lady!"

Quinn looked at the boys and held up a tin of Hummel Cookies from Denmark. Dave painfully closed his eyes and felt Kevin's hand tighten in his own.

"So…you're Kurt?" Dave dumbly repeated.

"That's right. And you two fine, fine gentlemen are…?"

 _THAT_ snapped Dave out of his reverie and he could feel Kevin shiver a little.

"I'm Dave and this is Kevin."

Kurt smiled and held out his hand. "Well, it's nice to meet you two! I'm Kurt Hummel. This cookie lady and Dr. Smith both said I am, so I suppose I am!"

A short, gutteral sound escaped Dave's throat and Kevin let go of his hand. They stared at this man, this Vietnam vet, this… _PERSON_ who had been the love of his grandpa's life and Dave didn't know what to do!

"Kurt?" Quinn asked, standing up. "Why don't you lie down for now?"

"Nonsense! I just got up. And besides, I have two fine young gentlemen in my room now." He looked up at them. And then, his eyes squinted a little. "But you, big boy… You look familiar."

Dave swallowed. "D-do I…?"

"Yeah! You look like…" Kurt put his finger to his chin and thought for a second. And then, he whipped his head up to Dave, flashing his still-golden smile. "Yogi Bear!"

Kevin and Quinn chuckled a little but Dave wasn't laughing at all.

"I'm…" Dave began, but stopped. He looked to Quinn for help.

"Kurt?" she said, advancing towards him, "this…this is Dave Karofsky. You're…"

And then Quinn stopped. Nobody knew what to do. Kurt goofily smiled at all of them and Kevin suddenly stepped forward."

"Hello Mr. Hummel!" Kevin brightly said, extending his hand. "I'm Kevin Hargenson. I'm a friend of Dave's!"

Kurt's smile widened and he took the proffered hand. "Well, hello there Kevin Hargson."

"That's Hargenson."

"Oh yes. Har-gen-son. I got it now. Thank you!"

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Hummel."

"Well, it's _ALWAYS_ nice to meet a nice, young, handsome man like yourself."

Kevin kept his composure and Quinn and Dave merely watched.

"Well, um, thank you," Kevin started, clearing his throat. "I see that this…nice cookie lady has been coming to see you lately."

Quinn looked at Kevin curiously.

"Yes, she has!" Kurt enthusiastically said. "She says she…" And then, he stopped. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head towards the big boy, the struggling one who was suddenly as lost as the sick man in the bed. "You just look…so darn… _FAMILIAR!"_

Abruptly, Kurt got on his knees and got right up in Dave's face! The bigger boy just stood there wide-eyed. Kurt merely studied him for a long moment before slowly sliding back onto the hospital bed. Having come to no conclusion, he lied back down and Quinn walked up to him.

"Here, Kurt." She said, offering him some water. "Breakfast was light today so we should probably keep you hydrated."

"Fuck, fuck, cocksucking, motherfucking, cocksucking commie bastards!"

"Kurt! Stay calm." Quinn said.

 _"COMMIE FUCKING BASTARDS!"_ Kurt roared, scratching his neck. " _FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, COMMIE FUCKING BASTARDS DON'T YOU KILL MY DAVE I LOVE HIM FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK-!"_

Dave and Kevin backed up and Quinn pressed the call button. Within a few seconds, nurses came in and restrained Kurt. The Vietnam vet was still yelling things that weren't really deciphered and Dave felt like his heart was breaking. Quinn acted like this was normal as a needle went into Kurt's arm. After a few seconds, Kurt subsided and that was it.

When the nurses left and Kurt was sleeping soundly, Quinn approached them. She did not look happy.

"You two. In the hall. Now."

She left. Dave and Kevin couldn't look at each other as they followed her. But Quinn acted like she knew exactly where she was going. She turned down the hall and rounded the corner of another, emerging in a waiting room of sorts. Ugly, multi-colored furniture were neatly organized and three-month old magazines were strewn around. The fluorescent lights above were harsh and Quinn merely sat down. Dave and Kevin came in and flanked her.

"Alright." Quinn began with an air of authority. "David? You will tell me why you're here."

"I think you should do the same!"

"Like I said, I've been coming here for years. Back when…"

Kevin leaned forward a little. "Please, Quinn. Please tell us…"

She looked at him a little dumbfounded. "My God…"

"What?" Kevin asked.

"You _ARE_ like Kurt…was."

"So people have been telling me… But still. What's going on here?"

Quinn sighed. "Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning…" She straightened herself on the chair and tried to look at them as she spoke.

"Kurt was infected with Agent Orange."

"So was grandpa." Dave interrupted.

"But it doesn't always manifest in the same way. Did you see when Kurt…" she pursed her lips, "lost himself, he was scratching his neck?" Dave nodded. "And doesn't your grandpa sometimes do the same?" Dave thought for a second, but it was Kevin who answered.

"Yes! I have seen that!"

Quinn turned to him, her gray and blonde hair swinging a little. "Agent Orange does that. It also causes some liver concerns which pisses me off that your grandpa Karofsky still drinks." She made an ugly expression before returning to her softness. "But it also causes acne. _SEVERE_ acne. Acne that feels like it's eating at your face and eating at your life…"

Dave blinked twice. That phrase. That phrase about eating stuck out in his mind. He'd heard it before but didn't remember. Instead, he gave his grandma the attention she deserved and she continued.

"Anyway, soon after your mom's three year birthday party…" Quinn began but then stopped. She touched her nose and struggled to continue. Kevin scooted closer and Dave bored eyes into her. She took that as strength and went on. "Kurt simply lost his mind."

"Lost his mind?" Dave asked.

"Yes." She turned to him. "Oh Davey. War is hell and Agent Orange tears your psyche apart sometimes. But Kurt's still in there sometimes. I know that he often refers to me as the 'cookie lady' and many days, that's all he can remember. Sometimes, Azimio comes with me and Kurt thinks he's just a big teddy bear." She darkly chuckled. And then, she grew quite serious. "And then…there are other times when Kurt comes back and everything I knew about him and your grandpa and their daughter… _MY_ daughter…feels so…real."

"It is real…" Kevin whispered. He gently clasped her hand and she dropped her head. Dave automatically put his arm around his grandma and she wept. She cried the tears of losing someone without really losing them. The pain in your heart that swells and kills your psyche and forces you to hate wars and politics and anything that men think matter.

"This place…" Quinn began, changing subjects. "This place…wasn't like this when Kurt was…placed here."

"Placed here?" Dave asked.

"Kurt was committed."

Dave and Kevin's eyes widened.

"That's still legal?" Kevin asked.

"No. Not anymore. But back then, it was. And the Hummels were only looking out for Kurt. There was an…accident."

"What accident?" Dave asked.

"Oh Dave! I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't have-"

"Well, you did! And I need to know!"

She shrunk back from his harshness, only to hear Kevin's soft voice beside her. "Please Quinn. We know Kurt went through hell and we know you're right about him…don't we, Dave?" But the bigger boy didn't answer. "Anyway, _WE_ do. And we know Kurt meant so, so much to you!" Quinn began to cry again. "And Kurt was loved and provided and was fascinating! And not only that, Kurt could become himself again-"

"We don't know that!" Quinn roared, standing up. She wiped her eyes and angrily looked at them. "You don't know what Kurt suffered! You don't know what your grandpa and I endured! We went through _HELL WHEN KURT DIED TO US!"_

And there it was. The admission that Dave's own grandpa used. That hateful word – 'died'. It was out and Quinn couldn't take it back. The boys stared up at her in total confusion.

"But he's right there!" Dave argued. "He's…!" And then, he stopped. Quinn finally looked at him with a firm compassion in her heart.

"That's right, Dave." She turned to the room's entrance and came to a stop, her back to them. Then, she softly said, "He might as well be dead…" She left. The boys were shocked into silence. They stared off after her, not knowing if she was returning to Kurt's room, or leaving, or crying, or anything. Finally, they looked at each other, serious expressions on their faces. They didn't exactly know what to do. As they stared, questions were psychically shared – should they go? Should they stay? Should they forget about Kurt? Should they ask Dave Sr. about everything?

Kevin blinked. Then, he stood up. "C'mon Dave. Let's go see Kurt one more time."

"W-why?" Dave mumbled.

"Because we still don't have all of the answers. And your grandma doesn't sound like she can give us anymore."

"She just gave us more questions… More problems…"

"I know." Kevin approached his boyfriend and touched his shaking shoulder. "But at least we might get more information about what's truly wrong with Kurt. And besides, even your grandma said Kurt is himself sometimes."

"That's…that's true, I suppose."

"That's the spirit, Dave. Let's go see him before we leave."

"OK."

Dave laboriously got up and the two left the ugly room, wishing they could leave the ugly truths behind. They walked down the hall back to Kurt's room and discovered Quinn was in there, giving him another cookie.

"Oh look!" Kurt exclaimed, mouth full. "It's those…" And then, he stopped. He struggled to swallow his cookie and then looked back up at his adopted grandson. "Damn! You look so familiar."

Dave tried to smile and pretty much accomplished that. Quinn was sitting in a nearby chair, her index finger resting on her head.

"Don't think," Quinn began, "that you're off the hook, Dave."

"Oh, now, cookie lady!" Kurt said. "You are normally so sweet but these two cute gentlemen in front of me can't be that bad!"

He scratched his acned throat and took a hearty bite of his cookie. But all too soon, Kurt started to choke.

"Oh, not again…" Quinn whined. She got up and poured some water in a plastic cup. The boys watched as Kurt downed some of the water. Quinn gently stroked Kurt's back, urging the delicious confection down his throat. Finally, he was able to swallow, just as he violently scratched his throat again. Quinn sighed and Dave just looked angry. But Kevin suddenly approached Kurt!

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Kurt. We've heard so much about you! And I know that this nice cookie lady and.." he smirked, "this cute boy beside me hope that you can come home some time." Quinn and Dave's eyes widened. "And besides-"

"Why would I leave?" Kurt asked. "I mean, I have a nice cookie lady, a teddy bear, and two fine, young gentlemen such as yourselves come…" And then, he looked at Dave again. Kurt's eyes suddenly widened, staring up at the big, Russian descent boy in front of him. "I know you!" Dave's eyes widened. "I _DO_ know you! You're my… _BOYFRIEND!"_

Dave closed his eyes. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are! You're my big, stubborn Russian!"

Quinn, Kevin, and Dave Jr. all looked down. Nobody could speak. Nobody could move. The pain of seeing this once proud man reduced to a babbling cookie eater was just too much to bear and nobody could function. But Kurt was elated!

"You are! You are! I know you! I'm so glad that you came! And besides, we have to get Carrie ready for her two-year-old birthday party!"

Dave looked down. "That's…that's right, Kurt." Quinn and Kevin started crying. "That's right, Kurt. And you know I have to have a proper aparativ before the spanakopita gets served. And you make the best spanakopita I've ever…h-had…"

"That's right I do!" Kurt happily exclaimed. "What should we get Carrie for her birthday?"

Dave flashed his head quickly and looked up at him, feigning happiness. "I…well, I'll leave that up to you."

"OK! I'm sure she'd love an Andy Warhol painting or a…" Kurt stopped. He looked up and then became terrified. He saw Dave Jr. and Kevin and simply looked at them. That's when he turned and saw his friend of forty years.

"Quinn?" Kurt softly asked. She immediately got up and went up to him.

"Yes, Kurt?"

"Oh, I've missed you! But who are these two right here?"

Quinn burst into happy tears! She struggled to say, "This is your grandson, David Karofsky. And this is Dave's boyfriend, Kevin Hargenson."

"It's nice to meet you two, but…where's Dave?"

Hearts stopped beating. Quinn looked down and reached into her purse for a tissue. Dave and Kevin merely watched each other and just as Quinn was about to respond, Kurt yelled.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, orange, cocksucking, motherfucking, commie bastards!"

Quinn exploded in tears and ran from the room. Dave and Kevin followed just as hospital personnel passed them to give Kurt another shot.

.

They found Quinn down by the elevators. Her arms were folded over her belly and she was looking down. Dave was sure his grandma was crying but when they caught up to her, she turned and there were no tears. Instead, she just sadly looked up at him as Kevin carefully watched. That's when a fierce scowl adorned her face.

"You need to leave now." She said. "I'm _SURE_ you _STOLE_ your grandpa's truck to get here." A wry smile temporarily replaced the scowl. "And I'm staying with Kurt a little while longer."

"Why?" Dave whined. "He…doesn't know you…anymore-"

"Yes, he does! He's…in and out of himself but he's getting better."

"He is?" Dave _AND_ Kevin chorused.

"Yes, he is. And who knows? He might be able to come home s-some day."

"How long has he been here?" Dave inquired.

"Well, lemme see…" Quinn looked off, doing the math in her head. "A long time. Decades."

"Decades?!"

"Yes, Dave. Decades. But he's getting older now and soon, he may transfer to a nursing home."

"Which one?" Kevin asked. He hoped what the answer would be.

"Probably one as close to Dave as possible."

That answer didn't satisfy him very much and he took a half step closer to her. "What _IS_ this place?"

Quinn looked up into his adorable eyes and saw nothing but kindness and concern. She addressed him directly.

"It's sort of a mental hospital."

"A mental hospital?"

"Yeah…sort of. Think of it as a nursing home for people who are a danger to themselves or maybe others. In the past, it was a respected place where people came to get treatment…but often, never left."

"Why would you put him here?" Dave angrily asked.

"We had no choice, Dave! Kurt was committed to Scarlet Towers by the Allen County Municipal Court. He was deemed a danger and his family had him sent here. And when Dave couldn't…" She trailed off.

"What?" Dave softly asked, his anger pushed aside.

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Kurt's family…didn't want your grandpa to visit."

"What?!"

"It was very rushed! Kurt was put here in a matter of days and...!" her voice dropped a little, "And gay couples were heavily frowned on then. Still are."

Dave and Kevin glanced at each other. An elderly, redheaded woman needed the elevator and Quinn pushed the button for her. They smiled at each other and Quinn ducked around her, so the woman could more easily get on.

"You're very pretty, dear." She said.

"Thank you." Quinn responded.

"I hope whoever you're here to see can go home soon. I know my Charlie doesn't like this place and wants to come home." Then, she sighed. "But I just don't know if that's possible."

"Well, I hope it happens."

Quinn and the woman stared at each other. Ordinarily, this would be when two women, who survived hell with their sick loved ones, would compassionately smile. But the reality of the situation bound them to silence as they knew what the _REAL_ truth probably was.

The elevator dinged and soon the doors opened.

"Take care, dear." The woman said. "And remember. Life is never what we truly want, is it?"

Quinn was dumbfounded. The boys watched her go and as the doors slowly shut, the woman smiled.

"She has a point." Dave darkly said.

"Dave!" Kevin admonished.

"Well! I mean…Kurt's out of his mind, grandpa can't visit his…" He shook his head. "And I really have no idea why _YOU_ still come and visit him, grandma."

"Because I love him, Dave." She sadly smiled. "That's what you do when life and love interfere. That's why I'll continue to see him…in secret. I loved him too."

Dave felt Kevin capture his hand and the bigger boy squeezed. Quinn watched them and actually felt envy. These boys, these innocent youths, could actually hold hands in public and no one could really stop them. It was a bittersweet moment for her as she watched them. It's not like Kurt and Dave Sr. ever really got the opportunity to do that in public.

"Alright," Quinn began with an air of authority. "You shouldn't come here again. And I _REALLY_ think you should get that truck back to your grandpa's before he busts a gasket."

"Grandmaaaaa!"

"Oh, shut up. Now, do as I say. And if you don't get the truck back within the next fifteen minutes, I'll call your grandpa." Dave's eyes widened! "Yes, I will! And I'll tell him to prepare the Nagyka."

"The what?" Dave asked.

"You don't want to know, Dave. Now git. Git!" He stared at her wondrously. "Despite my outward appearance, I can go just as hick as you ornery Karofsky men. Go! Shoo!"

"Alright, alright…" Dave whined. And then his voice softened. "Are you sure you're gonna be OK here?"

She sighed. "When will you Karofsky boys learn that I'm not that fragile?"

"I know! It's just-"

"Go. Shoo. And Kevin? You're not in trouble as long as Dave gets the truck back very soon."

"Yes, ma'am!" Kevin happily said. "Don't worry about that."

Dave growled and pressed the button on the elevator. A few tense moments passed before the doors opened and the boys entered.

"Don't tell him you were here, Dave."

"I won't."

They smiled at each other and the doors shut. And as the elevator descended to the first floor, all Dave could think about was how his mother got hurt at her three-year old birthday party.

.

 **AN: I hope you all liked this. Let me know what you think. If you have questions let me know. I'll try to update as soon as I can. :) Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: HELLO EVERYBODY! Thank you sooooo much for your patience! I've been working on so many projects and I did NOT forget this story. It's one of my favorites. It's also my betareader's favorite story, which I appreciate!**

 **Here, we see Dave and Kurt getting a new arrival in their household and the aftermath of that. It's not particularly happy but it is necessary for this story. Please bear with me.**

 **So ENJOY! And please review. Please be kind.**

 **HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3**

 **Chapter 22**

 _ **The Late 1970s – Carrie's birth**_

"You motherfuckerrrrrrrrs!"

Quinn had never yelled so loudly in her life. An attendant on one hand and Dave's hand in the other, Quinn struggled through yet another contraction. She only occasionally could see the obstetrician holding forceps or checking a monitor or whatever he did. In the end, she didn't care. It was some of the worst, searing pain she'd ever felt and she hoped she'd never feel it again…

Of course, she'd never know that she was absolutely correct.

 _"Daaaaaaave!"_

"What, Quinn?" Dave said, cringing from her clinging hand in his. "What?!"

"Mom was right! Sex and artificial insemination are _baaaaaaaad!"_

She beared down and Dave beared his own pain. Sweat poured from her blonde hair and an attendant kindly wiped it from her brow. Kurt suddenly appeared and tried to be helpful by making sure her pillow was fluffy.

"Fuck off!" Quinn yelled.

Kurt immediately backed off and Dave yelped in pain. His hand was anchored in Quinn's and it wasn't going anywhere.

"Just a few more, Quinn!" The obstetrician loudly said.

"Shove a bowling ball through the head of your dick and we'll see how well you do, you fucker!"

"I know, Ms. Fabray. I know. Just keep pushing!"

 _"Fuuuuuuuck yoooooooou!"_

Thirty seconds passed. Dave could feel his hand going numb and Kurt was standing helplessly by. The attendant wiped sweat off Quinn's lip and all the poor labored girl could do was suffer under the consequences. Childbirth is never easy and she was quickly finding this out. As time went on, she began to lose strength. An oxygen mask was placed over her mouth and the attendant urged her to breathe. But when that didn't happen, she looked to Dave.

"Quinn?" Dave asked. She half-lidded looked at him. "Baby? Remember San Francisco? Remember when you said if I died in Vietnam that you'd come and kill me? Well, I'm here. Kill my hand. Kill my hand! Do it! _DO IT! PUUUUUSH!_ You can doooo iiiiiit!"

"This is," Quinn said between breaths, pulling the oxygen mask off, "the _VERY LAST FUCKING TIME I DO YOU ANY FAVORS YOU FUCKING RUSSIAN BASTARRRRRD!"_

Quinn ferociously beared down and took every drop of circulation out of Dave's hand. A moment later, the obstetrician smiled.

"I see a head!"

A strange relieved sound escaped Quinn's mouth and Kurt braved coming to her side. He took her hand from the attendant's and smiled at her. It seemed like something passed between them as Quinn continued to persistently push. Dave still dutifully held her other hand but it wasn't as harsh as it was before. Instead, Quinn focused solely on Kurt and wouldn't look away. The singer gently stroked her hand and wouldn't let go. Within a minute, a garbled sound could be heard.

"It's a girl!" the obstetrician yelled.

Quinn collapsed and the guys immediately placed her hand down by her sides. Then, as if they had all the time in the world, they hesitantly walked down towards the end of the birthing gurney. The obstetrician was busy with a small billow, a measuring device, and several cloths. After that, he placed the infant in a container and slowly turned around.

"Congratulations…" And then, he didn't know whom to address. So, in the end, he addressed all three. "She looks like a healthy baby girl."

Kurt and Dave hugged each other and stared at the baby. They simultaneously turned to see that an attendant had given Quinn more oxygen and a healthy dose of morphine. Soon, the birthing mother had relaxed and was in a weird kind of sleep. Secure that she was OK, they turned back and stared at the girl in the makeshift bassinet.

Their daughter. Their daughter. _THEIR_ daughter.

Dave and Kurt couldn't have been happier. Soon, the child was cleaned off, weighed, and checked for any major defects. And a minute later, Carrie Anne Karofsky was presented to Dave and Kurt. The singer took her from the attendant and he wasn't sure he was holding her right. But then he felt a toe nudge the back of his leg.

Quinn had beckoned to him that he was holding her correctly. He smiled down at the dazed woman and allowed her to go back to her drugged sleep. Dave looked at Carrie.

"She looks like a bologna loaf." Dave said.

"Shhhhh! She's beautiful!" Kurt replied. "She's…beautiful."

They stared at her blue eyes, unfocused as they were. Her arms were confined but Kurt could feel them trying to be free. Her mouth opened and a soft yawn escaped, amongst a chorus of giggles from her dads. Dave and Kurt were frozen in their life's cocoon of a family, away from attendants and doctors and the law and all the hate in the world. In the end, it was just two dads, staring at the beautiful life they created…thanks to Quinn.

Dave turned and checked on her. She was sound asleep and he would probably stay the night with her. But after he was sure she was OK, he turned his attention to the little thing in his boyfriend's hands, their future, their one true thing that was truly theirs. Dave's arm found it's way around Kurt. The singing soldier looked up at Dave and wished to God he could kiss him right then. But it wasn't possible. So, instead, they returned their loving gazes to the amazing child in Kurt's hands, wriggling a little and yet another yawn escaping.

"Still looks like a bologna loaf with black hair." Dave muttered.

"Hush!" Kurt admonished. "She's incredible and you know it."

Dave relented and tightened his grip. "Yeah… Yeah, she is."

And the two dads held their daughter as attendants rushed around them, Quinn slept, paperwork was pushed, hostages were held in Iran, and the farmhouse waited for their arrival.

.

"I don't understand this!" Kurt yelled.

"Sir! We can't put you on this child's birth certificate! It's illegal. Only the biological mother and father can be on the certificate and that's _FINAL_!"

The attendant didn't wait for a reply. Instead, Kurt watched her go. Dave's arm automatically went around him, but Kurt shrugged it off.

"Goddamn it all!"

"I'm sorry, Kurt. The law isn't fair."

"But it sure is good for you!"

Dave narrowed his eyes. "Kurt, I'm not the enemy here."

The smaller man turned away, lips pursed. He even slammed his hand against his forehead for a moment, letting it fall. There's a level of frustration when you can't do anything and the only thing you can do is lash out. And Kurt Hummel was definitely lashing out. When he still didn't say a word, Dave spoke.

"Kurt, you're still her father."

"Am I?"

"Of course you are! Who cares what the law says!" Then, Dave's voice softened and he braved taking a step closer. His arms softly slid around his stricken boyfriend and the bigger boy continued… "I love you, Kurt. Carrie will love you too. And we already know Quinn does. And when-"

"Who's s-still here b-by the way…" she softly said.

Shocked, they turned around to see that she had woken up from her natural ordeal. Grateful smiles on their faces, they flanked her bed and approached her.

"How do you feel?" Kurt softly asked. Dave placed a strong hand on her shoulder.

"Like I've had a Mack truck pulled through me." She slurred. "I just feel drained and achy."

"Want me to call the nurse?" Dave offered.

"No. No. No more pain meds. I can manage." Dave looked at her like he didn't believe her. "I mean it, Dave. I'm fine. Sore, but fine."

She tried to connect her hand to his but couldn't quite manage. So, Dave did it for her as Kurt watched them, the biological father and mother to their child. A small feeling of envy crept in Kurt's heart and he hated it.

"And I h-heard what…" she started to say, but a wave of aftershock pain hit her and she gritted her teeth. Dave clenched her hand with a bit more strength and Kurt placed his hand on her shoulder. "w-what you two were saying." Then, she stared at Kurt coldly. " _YOU_ are this child's father, Kurt. You. You and Dave. That's who is this child's father. I mean, fathers. God, this is weird."

"I know." Kurt said with a little laugh.

"But I mean that. She's your daughter and I expect you to raise her well." A tear began to form in both Quinn and Kurt's eye. "And if you don't, well there will be hell to pay!"

All three of them laughed. It was a strange, almost threatening tension breaker that was sorely needed. Dave looked at her with an admiration that he almost regretted. Had circumstances not been this way, he might've been honored to marry her. And Kurt watched her strength and borrowed it for his own. These were the words that were needed on that day, when the world proved how unfair it is, how cruel, how homophobic! And yet, how absolutely wonderful that a life, a beautiful life had been offered to the young gay couple. And they weren't about to refuse it.

"Excuse me?" This question came from someone else.

All three young people turned in the room to see a nurse or orderly or something had something in her hands, wrapped up in a blanket.

"It's hospital policy," she began, walking towards Quinn, "to present the child to the birth mother."

Everybody froze. No one said anything as the nurse or orderly or whatever approached Quinn. And before she could say anything, Carrie was delivered to Quinn's suddenly available arms. Kurt took an involuntary step back and no one seemed to notice. Dave smiled down at the mother and daughter and couldn't have been happier.

That sudden, strange feeling enveloped Quinn – the maternal feeling of love and devotion and shock and oddity and love and everything that comes with every first time mother. She softly spoke to Carrie as if she could understand as Dave watched with a giggle just under his breath. The nurse or whatever left and all that occurred in that room was that wonderful, honest, natural connection of mother and daughter. The overwhelming feeling of feeling your child's fingers for the first time, or staring at her yawning mouth, or even laughing at her charcoal-colored hair. Quinn and Dave couldn't help but smile as Kurt watched with a fond look of approval. His arms went over his torso and he stared, a cruel mixture of emotions coursing through him.

Suddenly, Quinn said, "Here, Kurt. Hold her."

Hesitantly, Kurt approached. Encouraged a little by Quinn, he gently took HIS daughter in his arms. Every single negative emotion vanished as this singing soldier, this Agent Orange-infected man, this suddenly devoted father held Carrie. A smile quickly adorned his face as Quinn watched with complete satisfaction.

Kurt felt a burly, familiar arm around his shoulders as the two parents watched their daughter in Kurt's firm, loving grasp. It was a truly loving, wonderful moment for them all and they all couldn't have been happier.

" _STILL_ looks like a bologna loaf."

"Shut up."

.

 _ **THREE YEARS LATER**_

"Dave, it makes sense."

The burly man didn't respond. He hoped he would never have to and hoped it would never come to this. What man does? His fingers traced the now-empty coffee cup in his hands as his beautiful friend sat beside him. Silence drowned everything in the room and not even the '1812 Overture' could save them. She looked down and cleared her throat.

"We should do this, Dave." Quinn patiently said. "We love each other and Carrie should have-"

"I know, Quinn." He oh so painfully said. "I know." A curious silence shoved its presence in the Karofsky farmhouse kitchen. Quinn pushed back some blonde hair as Dave continued to stare at his coffee cup. "I just know…that this is the right thing to do. It's the honorable thing to do. It's the…"

She sadly smiled. "I know it wasn't what you wanted."

"Quiiiiin."

"It's OK, Dave." She turned to him and placed her hand on his. "I know." She patted it twice and removed it. "At least we know how we feel about each other and that we'll never intentionally hurt one another." Dave nodded. When he didn't say anything, she added, "And you don't have to worry."

He turned his teary eyes towards her. "Worry about what?"

"Kurt."

"What about Kurt?"

"I mean," she said, getting up and turning towards the refrigerator, "that I'll make sure Carrie never forgets Kur-"

" _NO!"_

She came to a sudden and slightly surprised halt. "What?"

"Quinn, Carrie cannot know about Kurt."

She looked at him like he was crazy. "And just why the hell not?!"

"What would you have me _DO?!"_ Dave yelled, standing up. "Have my daughter know that her father is crazy and _NEVER COMING BACK?!_ I can't do that, Quinn! I can't!"

She took a few careful steps back towards him. "We don't know that, Dave."

"Yes we do!" Dave hollered, now near tears. "You heard Burt. You heard what he said! He _FORBADE_ _ME_ to ever see him again!"

"And you're really going to listen to him?!" Quinn screamed.

" _YES_!" Dave then panted. "No! I don't know! I'd get kicked out if I tried! And I don't want to…!" He slumped back in his chair. "I don't want to make it worse…than it already is."

Quinn returned to her seat. "Dave, everybody deserves to know who their parents are."

"Even when Agent Orange has driven them crazy?"

"Even then."

"But why?" Dave whined. "Why? Whyyyy?! Why did it happen to him and not…!"

Quinn raised her head. "Ah. So, _THAT'S_ what this is." He looked over at her. "You can't control what happens to people, Dave. Agent Orange-"

"I know _EVERYTHING_ about that fucking Agent Orange and I'll be _DAMNED IF I'LL LET MY DAUGHTER KNOW HER DAD IS CRAZY BECAUSE OF IT!"_

At this point, Dave Karofsky and Quinn Fabray had been friends for nearly fifteen years. In all that time, she had never been the slightest bit afraid of him. But she could see the pained passion, the clear anger, the bitter resentment against Kurt's family, the Army, the Vietnam War, the rampant homophobia in America, and everything else that weighed on her Russian friend's shoulders. She stared at him in fear and then relented, gathering her strength. Quinn could've sworn she saw him wipe a tear from his left eye, but she wasn't sure.

"Dave," Quinn whispered, "I love Kurt too. And you-"

"Kurt doesn't know who he is anymore than I know myself!"

There it was. That simple acknowledgment of everything that was wrong. And in an instant, Quinn completely understood.

"I don't like this, David." Quinn coldly said. "I don't like this at all. I guess I understand it and…" she bravely looked over at his stricken face, "I'll do as you wish. But understand this, David Alan Karofsky." When he didn't look at her, she slapped him! He almost roared in fury, but stared at her instead. "If at any time, Carrie _NEEDS_ to know, I will tell her. And you will _NOT_ stop me." A tear fell down her right eye. "And when that happens, you better be prepared. Because…because…because…"

"What, Quinn?" Dave softly asked.

"Be-because…I love him too."

No more words were spoken the rest of the night. Quinn washed dishes and Dave got drunk.

The following week, they said 'I do' in front of the Judge and they were married.

.

 **AN: So, what did you all think?**

 **As for now, I an taking a break from fanfiction. I don't know when I'll be back. I just thought I would mention this because I don't want to leave you all hanging.**

 **Don't worry. I'm NOT leaving for good. But it maybe a lengthy absence. I have things going on in my life I need to take care of. So for now I am truly sorry for this BUT don't fret. I'll be back, better than ever! :)**

 **Thank you ALL for the support!**

 **Until then... Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: HI EVERYBODY!**

 **I know it's been a while since I updated this and I'm so, so sorry about that. Please forgive me. Life just gets in the way and I've been able to update this story. Thank you so much for your support!**

 **In this chapter we see Carrie at a therapist session. I don't want to spoil anymore so I'll shut up. Lol**

 **Warning: One racial slur and one homophobic slur is used here. This is not to offend anyone so please don't take it that way. I'm not here to offend anyone. If this bothers you, you've been warned.**

 **The song here is 'Lump' by Mutiny.**

 **So please review. Please be kind. And let me know what you think. Your reviews are so useful and helpful.**

 **HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3**

 **Chapter 23**

Haze. Fog.

Orange mist.

A farmhouse. Sunshine from the right side.

Mom is smiling in the kitchen.

Dad is drinking coffee near her.

Strange symphonic music is playing on a stereo.

A My Little Pony doll is bouncing on the floor.

Cute little hands are grasping it.

She sees the blue hair and wants to comb it.

She does.

She likes how the pony always seems happy.

She's happy too. She looks up.

Dad is smiling at mom. They're happy.

Then dad turns and smiles at someone else. A man.

Big hands that held her are holding this man's shoulders.

He leans in but she can't see what's happening…

.

"And that's all I can remember…" Carrie said. She looked away despondently. The cold therapist across from her was silent and waited for Carrie to continue. "So, I don't know what that dream means." The sterile conditions almost bothered her as much as Carrie's recurrent dream.

"Do you have any suspicions?" the brunette therapist asked.

"No." Carrie replied. And then, her head cocked. "At least, I don't think so."

"You don't?"

"I said, I don't! I mean…I don't know."

Carrie let her own brunette head float around the room. She could see the obvious display of the therapist's college degrees, the formulaic office portraits on the wall, the ugly yellow walls. She looked at the computer and wondered why there was an old UPC attached to it. Frustrated, Carrie looked at Dr. Hurts. She was a typical therapist – stoic, emotionless, probably pretty earlier in life, with brown eyes and brown hair. The therapist's brown blouse and skirt were too much monochronicity and it bothered Carrie. Nevertheless, that raised a question in her mind.

"You sure do seem," Carrie began, with a wry smile on her face, "to like the color brown."

"Thank you." Hurts quietly said.

"Why?"

"How do you feel when this dream reoccurs?"

Carrie sighed. "Like… Like…" She scratched her head. "Like… I'm missing something."

"What are you missing?"

"I don't know! I mean, I know there are things in my past that don't quite make sense!"

"Like what?"

"I don't know!" Carrie repeated. Her frustration was clear and she wasn't feeling like this counseling wasn't getting her anywhere. "I just don't…know."

Dr. Hurts looked her over. "You seem agitated."

"Wouldn't you be?" Carrie all but yelled. "I mean, there's this strange dream that doesn't make sense and it always ends before I can see what's…"

"What's…?"

Carrie shook her head and sadly replied, "I just don't know."

Dr. Hurts looked her over for a bit, noting in her methodically trained mind what the next course of action should be. She could see her patient's struggles, the obvious aggravation, and the body language that suggested defeat. Suddenly, an idea struck her.

"Carrie? I want to come back to something you said earlier."

"Yeah?" She said, looking up.

"Yes, Carrie. You said that there were things in your past that don't make sense."

"Yeah?"

"What did you mean by that?"

Carrie shifted on the couch, wishing she had a barcalounger to sit in. "Well… I've had these thoughts…" Dr. Hurts said nothing, as expected. So, Carrie continued. "I mean, they don't make sense, but they _FEEL_ so real."

"What thoughts?" Hurts asked.

The stricken Karofsky woman scratched her jaw. "It feels like… Well, this isn't going to make sense."

"That's OK, Carrie. Go ahead."

"Well…" Carrie paused and looked up. Suddenly, a pain so harsh enveloped her and seemed to crush her very being. "I've wondered if my mom and dad are…s-swingers."

"Swingers?"

"It's just that…" Carrie straightened up. "It seems like there was another…guy in my house when I was growing up. You know, before my parents divorced when I was sixteen."

"And does that bother you?"

Carrie looked at her like she was insane. "Wouldn't it you?! I can't get the thought out of my head that there was another guy around the house." And then, her voice darkened to pure hate. "And he caused my parents to separate."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because he seemed so important to my dad!"

Silence.

Hurts stared. Carrie panted. The yellow walls suddenly seemed a bit orange. And everything in the room went still. Carrie looked away, exasperated by this therapist session and how astonishingly hurtful it had become. Neither said a word for a while and Carrie glanced at the annoying ticking clock. The computer had gone to its ordinary screensaver and the lights in the room seemed to be even uglier. Carrie suddenly hated everything about the room, the therapist, the color orange, and her total being.

"Tell me," Hurts suddenly began, "about your parents' divorce."

"What about it?" Carrie defensively asked.

"Well, how did that make you feel?"

"That I hated nigg-…I mean, I hated Azimio Adams."

"Who is that?"

"That's the fucking bastard that took my mom away from my dad!"

"Is," Hurts began, "this Azimio Adams the one you see in your dream?"

Carrie halted. She relaxed her form and looked away.

"No," she wistfully said, "no… This guy seems familiar somehow. But I don't know how…"

Hurts shifted her head. "Perhaps he was a friend?"

"I don't think so." Carrie replied. "It seems…" And then, there was that dawning moment when you realize something for the first time. When you do the math and deduce that something so incredible could be happening that you just can't deal with it. Carrie wanted to lash out and smash things but she couldn't do that. Instead, she just came out with it.

"I think this guy was a fag-… I mean gay."

Dr. Hurts barely reacted. "And why would you-?"

"Because of the way my dad reacted to him! I mean, I see him grabbing this guy's shoulders and it's…it's…" Carrie squinted her eyes shut. " _DISGUSTING!"_

The therapist didn't say a word as expected and Carrie looked at her helplessly. So, she went on. "I mean, I think this guy had a disgusting, perverted crush on my…d-dad and this black guy made the move on my mom!"

Carrie exploded in tears. The therapist took it all in stride. And in the end, the session ended with a broken heart and a clinical report.

.

 **What's happenin' ya'll?**

 **We're funkin' on the one. Uh huh!**

 **Talkin' to the XYZ man – George Penitentiary Enterprises my jockey style**

 **I gotta terminate ya'll**

 **And we're funkin' on the one**

 **Can ya'll hear me now?**

 **Talkin' to the long stroker**

 **Too bad that you can't get what we got**

 **Thinkin' that you did somethin', sugar**

 **Realizin' that you ain't done a lot**

The lyrics remain crazy and strange and almost obscene in her young mind. She sees things she can't understand. Her dad drinking out of a small glass, her mom dancing to odd music, a black man grooving with them, and all the while, there's another man she doesn't know. Long gone is her My Little Pony and any classical music. She's smiling but doesn't know why. She wants to have fun with them but something doesn't feel right. She keeps seeing this man she doesn't know.

He's cute. He's young. He's…familiar.

Her vision blurs and she sees the distorted faces of every one. Her mom and dad look like they're in front of circus mirrors and the strange black man scares her. But this other man is curious to her.

"Kuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrr….!" Someone slurs.

Her dad says, "Kurrrrrrrt Hummmmellllllll!"

Her world spins and she's trying to enjoy herself. But she can't. She can't understand the insanity of the music, the strange surroundings, and this even stranger man in front of her.

"Kurt Hummel," she hears her dad say, "you are really are stubborn!"

Her lungs hurt. They burned like fire. She struggled to breathe.

An ethereal voice said, 'goodbye daddy!'.

Darkness.

.

"Now, listen Dr. Hurts," Carrie begins, "What the hell does that mean?!"

"What do you think-?"

"Oh, don't give me that!" Carrie exclaimed. "I don't know! And I'm _TIRED_ of not knowing!" She took a deep breath after that and instantly hated Dr. Hurts. She realized the therapist was only trying to help but the constant throwback of questions was so annoying! "I'm sorry. I won't do that again."

"Thank you, Carrie." Hurts sedately said. "That's very appreciative."

"Is it?"

"Why, yes."

"Oh. I wondered…" Carrie said, sitting up. "See, it just seems to me that I babble and you throw shit back at me and I can't see where any of this is getting me and I just told you about this Kurt Hummel that I know-"

"Kurt who?"

Carrie annoying sighed. "Kurt. Hummel."

Dr. Hurts leaned forward slightly. "Who do you think he is?"

Complete, sheer, ugly, life-consuming hate filled her being. "The freak that stole my dad away from my mom."

"And why do you think that, Carrie?"

She folded her arms in front of her. "I…I don't want to talk about him anymore."

"And why not?"

"Because I don't!"

"Then why are you here?"

Carrie looked at the calm therapist like she was insane. "Because I said so!"

"But, what is so scary about this?"

"I'm not scared!"

"Then, what are you? Why won't you talk about this recurring dream?"

'What are you?' indeed. As annoyed as Carrie was with this question, she had to admit that there _WAS_ something to this bitchy therapist's question. She looked away, noting the ugly, generic decorations on the wall and hating everything about them, like before. She could feel Dr. Hurts' penetrating stare and didn't know how to respond. Of course, she didn't like that very much. But in the end, the truth came out.

"I don't know." Carrie quietly said.

"Perhaps you should…" again, Hurts shifted in her seat, "consider reliving this dream again-"

" _NO!"_

"Ms. Karofsky, you can't always know what the mystery of dreams are." She adjusted her glasses on her nose. "And there is a working theory in the world of psychoanalysts that dreams are _ALWAYS_ understood."

"Excuse me?"

"It's true, Carrie." Hurts added. "Dreams are a symbolic gesture of the overwhelmed unconscious mind to deal with stress, intensity, death, even love." She leaned forward a bit more. "So, I encourage you to relive this dream and see what you can explore. Tell me."

The idea perplexed Carrie. There was something to this. The dreams had consumed her all of her life and she didn't like it very much. But there was also something almost comforting about them. The shapeless form, the incorporeal being of reality in them had her questioning everything about her family and even herself. But in the end, she just lifted her hands in the air and let them flop on the pleather sofa in frustration.

"I don't know where to begin." Carrie despondently said.

Dr. Hurts blinked a few times, methodically noting everything in her calculating brain. "Tell me the dream again."

Carrie looked away. "I…It's hard."

"But if you do, you're one step closer to understanding everything-"

 _"I SAID NO, OK?!"_

Dr. Hurts sat back. "Alright, Carrie. Then, tell me about this Kurt Hummel."

"I said, I don't know!"

"Are you sure about that?"

The question halted the angry Karofsky woman. There was something terrifying about this, but it wasn't something she wanted to avoid. She came to therapy for a reason. She just wasn't as comfortable as she thought she would be. After all, who _DOES_ think counseling is comfortable? In the end, Carrie was forced to close her eyes and let herself fall back throughout the years, beyond the terrors of Benghazi and her divorce and 9/11 and falling interest rates and the fall of the Berlin Wall. Beyond the terror attacks in northern Africa and when she left for college. Carrie Karofsky decided to let herself fall into that world of the 1980s, when corporate greed and cocaine dominated the world and everything seemed to have broader shoulders and DeLorean seemed invincible.

"I…" Carrie began, eyes still closed, "I think he was actually…" She stared to fall apart. Little quivers of her face showed how vulnerable and sensitive that time period really was to her and Dr. Hurts merely observed. "I think he was…someone special."

Hurts remained silent.

"I'm not…exactly…sure…" Carrie hesitantly began. "But when I… _SEE_ this man in my dreams, this Kurt Hummel, he's so…" She wiped her nose. "Kind."

The stricken woman took a moment to breathe and it was as if the weight of the world was off her shoulders.

"I seem to recall…" she began, while Hurts looked on, "that he loved…cars. Or Andy Warhol. Or… you're gonna think I'm strange, but I think his favorite color was orange!"

Carrie laughed out loud while Dr. Hurts maddeningly looked on. When the sad girl got not response, she merely continued.

"Dr. Hurts?"

"Yes?"

"Is it weird that this man who I think was a swinger was actually… _IMPORTANT_ to my mom and dad?"

Hurts shifted her head. "Why would you think that?"

"Thanks, Aristotle." Carrie sardonically said. Hurts ignored it and let the poor woman continue. "Well, he seemed happy with my mom and dad. Like, he should've been there but then…"

"But then…?"

Carrie looked away. "I don't know. It's like he just left them, but that doesn't _FEEL_ right."

"Why?"

"I wish I knew." Then, Carrie's eyes grew wistful. "I see this Kurt Hummel smiling at me. I see his kind eyes and his warm smile and I can feel his arms around me in a very loving way. But I don't understand what happened!"

Dr. Hurts studied her for a long moment before she calmly said, "Perhaps this is something to ask your parents?"

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, Carrie. I think you would benefit greatly to have these questions-"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Hurts," Carrie announced, abruptly getting up, "But I have some questions I need to ask." Just as she got to the door, her hand wobbled on the door handle and she stared at it, hoping that she would eventually get the answers she so desired. "I think I need to go home and talk to my mom and dad."

"That's fine, Carr-"

The stricken Karofsky girl had already left. And while Hurts completed her file on her patient, Carrie was off on a new adventure of her own.

.

 **AN: So, what did you all think? I hope you liked it? If you have questions, let me know. We are getting kinda close to the end. I didn't want this story to be SUPER long. But we are far away from that. Lol**

 **Anyway for those who want to read this I want to explain my absense on here for so long. If you're not interested you dont have to read this and can click out now. I just didn't want to leave and suddenly come back without explaination.**

 **This is hard for me to type so I'll try to keep it short.**

 **For the last several weeks, even months a lot has happened in my personal life. And things went to shit really fast. But I ALWAYS made sure to post as often as I could but in the last few months that changed. I'll spare you the details but things in my life went to pure shit a few weeks back that prevented me from updating my fics so frequently as I always do. And on top of that I recently lost my aunt to cancer. It was hard. Very hard. And sudden. She meant the world to me. I was devastated. So my mental state was shot for a while.**

 **Anyway this is why updates on my stories haven't been consistent. I felt so shitty for not posting but I know some of you will wait for me when I can post. So thank you to those people who like my work and support me. It means A LOT to me. :)**

 **My life is way better now. Things are still hectic but it has gotten a 1000% better. I still don't know when I'll update consistently but I'll try. I don't want to dissapoinment you all.**

 **Anyway thats it for now. As I said I'll TRY to post more often. Life is still busy for me so updates will be slower. But I haven't left you all and I dont plan on it any time soon. :)**

 **I love fanfics. I love writing them! :) and HELL TO THE YES I still LOVE GLEE! LOL! :) I miss Glee.**

 **I hope you all understand.**

 **I appreciate everyone that takes the time to review, favorite, follow and read my things. :)**

 **You all are important to me.**

 **Anyway I'll end this here. Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Hi Guys!**

 **I'm back! Miss me? Lol**

 **Here we are again in the past. This time is in 1996.**

 **Carrie is a teenager going through some difficult things. This shows how she became the way she did as an adult.**

 **WARNING: A racist slur and a homophobic slur are used here. Read with caution. My intention is NOT to offend anyone BUT I felt in order for this to work it needed to be done. This is NOT how I feel whatsoever. And should NEVER be taken as that. If this makes you uncomfortable click out now. You HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

 **Carrie starts to rebel and well... We all know how teenagers are.**

 **Thank you to everyone that reviews, favorites and follows.**

 **Please review. Please be kind. Enjoy!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

 **Chapter 24**

Beanie babies got old. So did the Rubik's cube when she was little. But in the end, it was a Nintendo game console that aroused her interest. She found she _LOVED_ watching the little Mario character run to the right in the 'Super Mario Brothers' video game. She loved the way the little mushrooms and sounds and fireballs and everything else was basically at her command. She just had to work her fingers right.

But around her, things were different. As she played, she could hear her mom and dad talking quietly. In the sixteen years she'd lived there, she knew they loved her. But never, not once, did she see them kiss or even really touch each other. When she went to Girl Scout parties or even her friends' slumber parties, other parents at least touched each other. But not her mom and dad. There didn't seem to be an explanation about it yet she didn't doubt she was cared about. In fact, she could hear her dad yelling at her from the kitchen, intoxicated from the vodka a little.

"C'mon, Carrie!" Dave hollered from the kitchen.

"Just five more minutes!" Carrie whined as she jumped over a brick wall in the video game.

Dave crossed the kitchen and entered the room. "No, Carrie. Time for bed. Go. Now."

She didn't do anything. He narrowed his eyes even further.

"Do NOT make me turn this TV off." He warned.

Carrie turned her head to the side and paused the game. "Please, dad! Just a few more minutes. I've never been to the eighth world!"

"You'll never get," Dave yelled, "to the _NINTH_ world if you don't get upstairs and go to bed!"

Carrie snarled, "Ohhhhh, alriiiiiiight!"

Reluctantly, she turned the Nintendo off and then turned the TV off. She turned to run to the stairs but was grabbed by her father. Stopped in her tracks, she looked up at him. His fierce Russian persona didn't bother her. She saw right through him and knew what he wanted.

Obligatorily, she hugged his big belly tight. She could feel his burly arms around her, squeezing tightly yet gently. After a second or two, she ran upstairs and went to bed. After a quick brushing of her teeth and an undressing, she curled under the covers. The lights went out and the entire farmhouse came under the natural darkness of night. There's something very soothing about country night times – it just makes you want to sleep and not play video games or drink or party or anything.

But after an hour or two, Carrie heard a few phrases coming from her parents' bedroom. At first, she didn't give them much thought. And then, she could hear things like – "it'll be OK" and "Azimio is a good man" and "dissolution is simple. I don't want anything." She didn't try to understand them and instead, thought about how she'd get past the dragon in the seventh level of her video game.

.

She was so happy when her mom and dad finally got a VCR. Every Friday night, Dave, Quinn, and Carrie would go to the video store and get a movie. They'd come home, pop some popcorn, and let Carrie fall into the world of Hollywood cinema. They'd also let her drink a whole bottle of Coca-Cola and call her friends to tell them about the movie she just watched. And the best part was that her parents showed little interest in the VCR – basically she had it all to herself.

That evening, they rented a movie for her and should've paid better attention to the title – 'Carrie'. Carrie Karofsky had always wanted to see the movie that shared her first name. When they returned from the video store, Carrie ran into the living room and activated the TV and VCR. Wide smile on her face, she started the movie, annoyed by the dumb FBI warnings at the beginning. Does anybody really read those things?

Meanwhile, Dave and Quinn stayed in the kitchen. She didn't mind, of course. Once, she turned and saw her dad sitting at the table while her mom poured some black liquid into a coffee cup. But she had a very important movie to watch and a teenage girl always has to have what she wants.

About a half an hour later, Carrie was watching a particularly disturbing scene and she stood in the center of the living room. She turned from the screen and covered her face with her hands. She found she couldn't stand when Carrie in the movie was bullied and it was certainly hard for her to watch. Nevertheless, she wanted to turn around, but could still hear the bullies on the TV screen.

She wiggled her fingers a little and through the prison bars of her digits, she looked into the kitchen once again. But this time, her parents had somber expressions on their faces. Carrie couldn't hear them very well, but her mom looked serious and it was then that Carrie realized that a person could sometimes read someone's lips.

She examined her mother while she spoke. At first, Carrie couldn't make out what her mother was saying. Behind her, she could here Margaret White accuse her daughter of being a witch and having Satan's power. It was distracting and a heavy frown fell on Carrie Karofsky's face. But then, there was one word, just one word that she picked up from her mother's lips and it sent shivers down her spine.

 _ **DIVORCE**_

Carrie's eyes widened and she froze on the spot. She considered taking a step to the left to see what her dad was saying. But there was a chance he could see her and didn't want to risk it. She also thought about screaming her head off. The brown-haired girl hoped Quinn was talking about someone else but she just wasn't sure.

But teenagers are clever (or think they are) and she came up with a plan. She quickly paused the movie and headed towards the kitchen. As soon as she entered, her parents stopped talking. _UH HUH,_ Carrie thought. Ignoring them, she walked through the kitchen and entered a side bathroom just beyond. She closed the door and then using careful fingers, she opened the door just a little bit.

Carrie waited. And waited. As a cover, she turned on the cold water faucet for a few seconds and then turned it off. And when she did, Carrie Karofsky could finally _HEAR_ the words her parents clearly didn't want here to hear…

 **DISSOLUTION**

 **AND AZIMIO DOES LOVE YOU, QUINN?**

 **DIVORCE SOON**

… **CARRIE WILL HAVE TO…**

She turned her head closer to the door to eavesdrop better. But they hushed their voices even further and she struggled to understand.

But she'd heard enough. Goddammit she'd heard enough.

 _ENOUGH!_

Carrie no longer cared about her cover anymore and blasted the bathroom door open. With pursed lips, she blasted through the room and into the living room, resuming the movie. She cradled the remote in her hand, like a little fooler for a baby. The movie wasn't enough of a distraction anymore as near-rage boiled inside her. Eyebrows furrowed and teeth clenched, Carrie couldn't take this as a reality anymore.

Suddenly she hurled the remote to the couch, which bounced harmlessly to a standstill. She whirled around and closed her eyes to avoid eye contact with her parents. But evidence of a teenage temper tantrum was clearly evident when Carrie stomped up the stairs and out of sight.

She didn't even wait to see if her parents heard her.

She didn't think that she was rude.

She barely wondered if she cared.

But on the TV screen, Carrie had arrived at the prom.

.

"What the hell, Carrie?"

"Suspension! Again?"

"Stop that, Carrie!"

"You're flunking English?!"

"Why did you dye your hair orange?"

Carrie began to look forward to these statements. You'd think she was asking for it and in many ways, she was. Weeks passed since that fateful evening while trying to watch 'Carrie'. She still performed her normal teenage duties – chores, going to school, doing homework, smiling when necessary, etc. But there was always friction involved. And when you have an angry teenager, when isn't friction a problem?

One evening, Carrie was watching the news. There was something about Tupac Shakur being shot on the news. She continued to watch and pretended to do algebra homework. Sipping from a glass of 7-Up, she twirled a pencil in her hand. Carrie looked at it, letting her chestnut hair fall on her shoulders. A streak of orange was out of eyesight but she knew it was there. So did her father.

"Carrie?" Dave asked from the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes and said, "Yeaaahh?!"

"Come here."

Carrie groaned. She plopped her textbook on the floor and ignored the news that Shakur was dead. Instead, she stomped into the kitchen seeing her dad's broad shoulders from behind. Carrie walked up towards him and came to a stop, just a few feet away from her.

"Yeah?" she repeated.

"Sit down."

A heavy sigh escaped her lungs and she flopped in the chair the furthest away from him. She wouldn't look at him but knew he was looking at her. He studied her intensely and she refused to let him know it bothered her. A coarse silence filled the room then and she began tapping her fingers on the table. Meanwhile, Dave still said nothing, watching her with sideways eyes, knowing full well that he had to say or do something about his daughter.

He sat up and stroked his throat. A bit of acne had bothered him lately, but he had other, bigger concerns in his hands then.

"What's going on?" Dave compassionately asked.

 _THIS_ threw Carrie off. Rarely did her dad show any softness and it unsettled her for a moment. And then, she looked at him but did not smile.

"Nothing, dad."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah. Nothing."

"Then, why are you acting-?"

"Daaaaaad!" Carrie whined, raising her hands in frustration. "I'm OK! I'm just annoyed with school, that's all!" And then, she looked around the room. "Where's mom?"

Dave flinched just a little. "She's…gone."

"Where?" she coldly asked.

"She moved…" Dave began and then unnecessarily cleared his throat, "she moved in with someone."

Carrie looked away and whispered, "I'll bet it was with that cheating nigger. What a fag."

"What?" Dave asked.

"Nothing."

Her dad sighed. "Look, Carrie. I know that my divor-"

She suddenly stood up! "I have homework to do, dad."

"Carrie! Come back here!"

But it was too late. Carrie had already fled the house without grabbing her algebra textbook. She missed the news that Shakur's death was a homicide.

More weeks passed. Carrie skipped school and was suspended again. Two more and she'd be expelled. Sometimes, she smelled like cigarette smoke and vodka. Dave noticed he didn't has as much vodka has he often did.

Meanwhile, Carrie continued her home duties. She would occasionally sweep the carpet or start homework. Then call her new boyfriend and complain or whatever. Sometimes she snuck behind the big farmhouse and smoked a cigarette. The fine line in her orange streak in her hair needed some fine tuning and she'd dye that.

One late afternoon, Carrie came home from school as usual. She stopped at the driveway and collected the mail. She shifted through the ads for Commodore computers, Meijer grocery stores, and even the local colleges before she saw an envelope that stunned her – "Allen County Probate Court". She shook as she read the return address. Immediately infuriated, she stormed up the path towards the farmhouse and blasted the door open. Carrie hurled the mail on the kitchen table and for an instant, almost opened the envelope. She knew the "Declaration of Divorce" was in there and she wanted to read it. Then she didn't. Then she did. In the end, she called her boyfriend again and convinced him to take her out for the evening.

It was a school night.

.

More weeks passed and then months. And Carrie wasn't doing any better. Dave was exasperated. Quinn was frustrated. And Azimio stayed out of it.

In the end, the only thing Dave and Quinn could do was to guide her the best they could from their differing households and try to remember how she was such a good girl.

She still was. She just didn't remember it.

Some more time passed and Carrie's birthday was coming. Dave and Quinn's divorce had been the most amicable the courts had ever seen. Custody was granted to Dave and Quinn was now living comfortably with Azimio Adams. And none of that stopped a very special seventeenth birthday for their one and only daughter. So, plans were made, friends were invited, and Dave considered buying her a new car. Luckily, his farm had been very successful and he had saved enough money. But Quinn and Azimio reminded him of her shaky behavior and Dave relented on the car idea.

The evening of her birthday party, the house was in full swing. Carrie's favorite dish, utka and aiva, was prepared by Quinn. Azimio carried party supplies and Dave helped clean the house. A big sheet cake that said, "Happy 17th Birthday Carrie" was on the kitchen table. Instead of Russian ancestral music, popular rock music from the day blasted from the speakers – Sublime, Stone Temple Pilots, Jamiroquai, and the like. Dave scratched his head at the annoying noise from the speakers and Azimio teased him about it. Quinn berated them both just as they heard the front door open.

Carrie entered the house and walked into the kitchen. Everyone turned around.

"Surpri-!"

Silence. Engulfing, horrible, life-consuming silence filled the farmhouse kitchen then. No one could breathe. No one could think. No one wanted to. Instead, they let the scene unfold before them, as awful as it was.

Carrie was drunk. She wobbled into the kitchen and barely made it to the table without collapsing. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she could hear the music and seemed to smile or something. Everyone just stared at her, unable or unwilling to do anything.

She looked around the room, eyes glossy from alcohol and mouth aghast with some strange kind of fear. Carrie's head drifted left and right a little and then she fell in on herself. Tears escaped her eyes as she stared through the prison bars of her fingers. Quinn took a step towards her while Dave looked on with murderous eyes.

"Carrie?" Quinn softly asked. "Honey?"

Slowly, oh so slowly, Carrie lifted her head and stared straight ahead. She wasn't looking at anything and just barely comprehended that her mother was standing near her. And that's when she opened her mouth and dropped a bombshell on her parents.

"I'm pregnant."

.

 **AN: What do you guys think?**

 **Woooow! Carrie dropped a bomb. Right?**

 **I'll try to update more often. But I'm not making any promises. I hope you guys liked this. Thank you all for being so patient with me. :)**

 **Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	25. Chapter 25

**AN** **:** **HEY EVERYBODY!**

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 **A special THANK YOU TO stevehixn: You're review made me smile! Thank you! Glad you like my story. Your review was touching. Thank you! Its appreciated. :)**

 **This chapter is TENSE. Very tense. We learn more about Carrie and what she's going through. It gets ugly but I won't say anything further.**

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 **HAVE** **A** **NICE** **D** **AY** **!I** **LOVESMESOMEGLEEx3**

 **Chapter 25**

 _Bang, bang, bang, bang!_

Dave Sr. thought maybe the North Vietnamese were still attacking. But in his slightly drunken slumber, he realized it was just someone loudly knocking on his front door. With an annoyed whine, he rolled his sore hips, scratched some acne on his throat, and hobbled towards the door.

 _Bang, bang, bang, BANG!_

"I'm comin'! I'm comin'!" He yelled, waddling through the kitchen towards the door. "Не бить мою дверь!" He caught himself and said it in English. "Don't beat down my door!"

Finally, he peered through the peephole and was astonished who was on the other side. Dave Sr. took a deep breath and opened it.

"About time." Carrie said, barging into the house and walking past him.

"Well, come on in." He said. He shut the door and followed her into the kitchen. There she stood, her back to him, hands on her hips, chestnut hair down just past her shoulders. Even to that day, he still considered her one of the most beautiful women he'd ever met.

"To what," He began, "do I owe-?"

"We need to talk."

 _WE NEED TO TALK_. The one phrase that sends terror through a man's heart. It's the only sentence in the English language that men revolt from that doesn't involve physical pain. And Dave was all too aware of this. So, he walked over to the sink, ignoring the dirty dishes there. He opened up the cupboard and grabbed a glass.

"Do," he asked, "you want-?"

"No."

He halted. She was furious. Or scared. Or both. Regardless, he pulled out the glass for himself and ignored the Stolichnaya bottle. Instead, he filled his glass with clear water from the tap. When it was full, he took a long drink, as if taking a shot of courage.

"I'm surprised," Carrie sarcastically said, "you don't have that goddamn '1812 Overture' on."

Dave said nothing, but glared at her.

"Oh!" She said. "Oh! Did I offend you?"

"What do you want, Carrie?" He annoyingly asked, plopping down at the head of the kitchen table with three grunts.

She put her hands on her hips. "I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them."

Dave rolled his hands together and looked up at her. She had Quinn's eyes but Dave's temper. That combination almost made him smile. Almost.

"Alright." He agreed.

"Fine, then." She wildly pulled out a chair at the end of the table, sat down, and angrily scooted forward. She folded her hands much like her father and stared at him.

"I want to know a bunch of things." She said.

"Alright."

"For one thing," she said, turning towards him, "I want to know why you and mom divorced."

"Carrie," Dave said, looking down momentarily and then right back up at her. "Your mom and I still love each other very much."

"Then why did you _SEPARATE_?"

"Because…" he scratched his acned throat and wished for some vodka, "she fell in love with someone more…" he waved his hands in the air for a second and then dropped them, "appropriate."

"Appropriate?!"

"Yes, Carrie."

"And just what in the hell does that mean?!" Carrie screamed. "All my life I wondered why mom would go to him when she had you! Did I do something-?"

"No."

"Then, whyyyy?!"

Dave sighed. After a quick brush of his hands over his face, he said, "Your mom and I just weren't compatible."

" _MY_ husband and I weren't compatible!" Carrie argued. "I should've learned that a long time ago. But you and mom? You and mom?! You two are always so happy when you're together!"

"Carrie," Dave said, losing his patience, "your mom and I just weren't meant to be together. She has Azimio now and has for some time now."

"I don't care!" she whined. "It just doesn't make any sense! What the hell, dad?!"

The entire, painful, heartbreaking, passionate conversation completely died. Carrie stared at him, a hand over her heart. He looked at her with as much compassion as he could. He was her father, after all, and he couldn't bear to see her in such pain. Nevertheless, life never promises to give us exactly what we want and Carrie was still learning this, despite her age and experience.

She threw her hands in the air and turned away from him. He once again folded his hands together. With no television or '1812 Overture' to blare from the other room, the silence was deafening and neither of them could stand it.

Carrie scratched the tabletop with her finger. Dave stared at his now-empty glass. The Russian standoff went on and on and neither would admit defeat. But when answers aren't good enough for either party, why would it end?

"How's Dave?" she suddenly asked.

"He's fine." Dave Sr. said. Then, he peered at her more closely. "He would be better if he were living with you at home."

Carrie bolted from her seat and walked towards the sink. "Dad, you know I love my son, but I can't have…" she struggled to find the right word, " _THAT_ in my house."

"'That'?" Dave angrily asked.

She turned to him, surprised at his reaction. "Yes, dad."

"' _THAT_ ' is your son!" He stood up. "' _THAT_ ' is not a that! _HE_ is your son! And you will _NEVER_ speak of him in that way again!"

"Dad, it's wrong!" she whined, returning to her seat at the table. "I've known it's wrong for some time and it…" she shivered, "it's gross! It's just… _WRONG_!"

"I'm gay."

And there it was. No hesitation, no doubt, and especially, no compassion when he declared himself to his daughter. He towered over her at the other side of the table, staring into her bewildered eyes. In the sixty-two years of his existence, he had never uttered this phrase before. And the very first time you do it, it's quite an unnerving experience. Nevertheless, he held it together and glared daggers into his daughter's eyes.

Meanwhile, Carrie just stared up at him. By his demeanor, he appeared to mean business. But just like death, you always deny it at first.

"Shut up, dad!" she said with a laugh. "Don't fool about-"

"I am." Dave darkly said.

She looked up at him and couldn't believe her ears. "But…mom?"

"I know," He said, slowly sitting back down. "I know. I love your mom and your mom knew I was gay before she married me."

" _WHAT?!_ "

"Yes, she did, Carrie. And I've loved her even more for that…" He almost smiled as he fondly looked away. Then, he snapped back to the present and picked at his glass with his fingernail. "But then your mom found Azimio. I'll always love your mom and she'll always love me, but we're not…compatible."

"This is some kind of joke." Carrie whispered, staring at her dad like he wasn't her dad. "This can't be true."

"It is, sweetie." He softly said. "It is."

"Bullshit!" She blasted from the chair and marched towards the door.

"Your daddy," Dave whispered, "would be so disappointed in you."

She came to a halt. "What?"

Dave looked down and noticed some shredded orange carrots on his shirt. He brushed them off and said nothing.

"Goddammit, dad!" she roared. "You can't be gay!"

"I am."

"No!"

"Yes."

"Nooooo!"

"Carrie, stop this! I'm gay and there's nothing you can do about it!"

Then, something ugly happened. A truly, ugly scene unfolded. A creepy, invasive smile filled her face and she slowly advanced towards him.

"So!" she began, evilly smiling, "Did you turn my son gay?"

He looked up at her like he didn't know her. "Don't do this, Carrie."

 _"DID YOU?"_

"Carrie, it doesn't work like that. Your son and I have been gay all of our lives and your mom and I have been friends for over forty-five years." And then, he stood up, his belly scraping the table. "And I'll be _DAMNED_ if I'm going to be insulted in my own house!"

Carrie was enraged! "Fuck you, dad! Fuck all of you queers! I fucking hate _ALL OF YOU!"_

 _"GET OUT! NOOOOOW!"_

"Yeah, no fucking problem with that, _OLD MAAAAAN!"_

Carrie blasted from the house. Dave slumped in his chair. Somewhere in the distance, he heard her car peeling out of his driveway and an enormous sadness grew within him. He looked up.

Across the way, there was a replica of Andy Warhol's poster of a Campbell's Soup can. It was such a simple print and something that he cherished for a long time. A long time indeed. He didn't understand it and didn't care. Instead, he watched the red can turn orange in his eyes and after a long, long time, he could feel what would happen next. And he was right.

A tear. And then another. And then another. Soon, he became a blubbering baby in that strong farmhouse kitchen.

"Oh, dear God, Kurt…" he softly said. "Oh, how I miss you now."

.

State Route 81 is one of the straightest highways in the Lima area. It's long, relatively narrow and is well taken care of. But after that very difficult exchange, Carrie found it hard to concentrate on the road. She had just been slammed with way too many emotions and a revelation that she just couldn't process. And sometimes just to understand, we need our parents. She couldn't go to her dad. So, she went to her mom.

Carrie pulled in the driveway of her mom's house, slamming the car in Park and cutting the engine. For just a second, she caught her breath. She didn't even realize she was panting. Gripping the steering wheel like a person on their first flight, she took deep breaths and closed her eyes. It didn't matter if it was cold or hot outside. _SHE_ was hot.

Taking her foot off the brake, she emerged from the car and slammed the door shut. Carrie Karofsky marched up the front porch of the house and promptly opened the door without permission. She shut the door behind her and walked through the foyer. There in the living room, the Adams were sitting on a couch watching TV.

"Carrie!" Quinn exclaimed. "Why are you…?" And then, she saw the devastated look on her daughter's face. Instantly, Quinn went to her and did what all mothers should do.

She held her. Carrie fell apart in her mom's arms. Azimio respectfully stood up, watching them from afar. Minutes passed in silence, except for the news reports on TV from the evening news. Finally, mother and daughter separated enough to let them enter the living room and sit on the couch together. Quinn looked up at Azimio.

"I'll just go upstairs." He softly said. He started to leave the room but she grabbed his arm. Stunned, he turned towards her. Quinn Adams stood up, walked over to him, and softly kissed him. Carrie looked away in disgust.

"Thank you." Quinn whispered. Azimio winked and went upstairs.

This gave Quinn a moment to look Carrie over. Her daughter's hair was mussed and she was simply a mess. Her arms flopped on her lap and her posture sunk. Quinn sighed, walked over, and sat beside her.

"Carrie? Honey? What's wrong?"

She wiped her nose with her hand. "It's dad."

Quinn looked a little alarmed. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing, apparently." Carrie said. And then, she looked up into her mother's compassionate eyes. "Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Dad… He told me everything."

Quinn loudly exhaled. "Oh, thank God! Well, it's about time. It's about time you learned about Kurt and everything. But honey, are you-?"

"Wait, what?"

Quinn looked at her daughter and realized there was a terrible miscommunication. And just as she understood it, Carrie did too. Immediately, she bolted upright.

"Who's Kurt?" Carrie asked.

"Oh…no…"

"What? What mom? _WHAT_?"

Quinn said nothing.

 _"TELL ME!"_ Carrie roared.

Quinn pursed her lips and struggled to talk. And once again, Carrie was approaching rage.

"Oh, this has just been a _PERFECT_ evening! How can _THIS_ get any better?!"

Maddeningly, Quinn still said nothing, looking down at her hands.

"Who the hell is Kurt?!"

Quinn looked over and into Carrie's stricken eyes. "Honey, you have to understand times were different then. And we-"

 _"WHO THE HELL IS KURT?!"_

Surprisingly, Quinn didn't discipline her daughter for the outburst or interruption. Instead, she completely understood Carrie's distress and decided to tackle this head on.

"Kurt Hummel…" Quinn softly began, "was…"

 _"WHO?!"_

Quinn closed her eyes for just a long moment before she opened them and blurted, "He was your daddy."

The air dropped. Lights seemed to go dark. Carrie thought her eyes weren't working right. And in the end, Carrie swooned a little, falling back on the couch.

"Oh, sweetie!" Quinn began. "I wanted your dad to tell you about your daddy but he didn't want to."

"Oh, this is great!" Carrie yelled, standing up. She began pacing back and forth. "I suppose I should just join some kind of queer organization and march my life away, huh?! And just where is this Kurt…?!"

And then, it hit her. She'd heard the name before. Or, at least, she thought she did. And she remembered something Dr. Hurts said about confronting the past.

Her dad.

Her _DADDY_.

Her mom.

Her black stepdad.

Her gay son.

Her gay son's boyfriend.

 _EVERYTHING CRUSHED HER SUDDENLY!_

"I can't fucking take this anymore!" Carrie yelled. And then, all of the years of frustration and confusion consumed her. She screamed. She screamed and screamed and screamed. Upstairs, Azimio opened a door and ran to the top of the stairs but did not descend. Quinn burst into tears and Carrie fell on the floor. She cradled herself into a fetal position and just could not function. Quinn so, so badly wanted to comfort her, hold her, soothe her, ANYTHING to end her daughter's suffering. Instead, they stayed in their respective places.

"Mom?" She asked between sniffles.

"Y-yes, sweetie?"

"You divorced da…dad because he's…?"

Quinn nodded. "No, Carrie."

She looked at her mom, a heavily confused expression on her face. "Then… why?"

She sadly smiled. "Because I fell in love with Azimio. And I'll always love your dad. And…your daddy. And I-"

"Where is he?" Carrie suddenly asked, standing up. She towered over her mom. "Where is this Kurt Hummel?!"

Quinn took a deep breath. "He's very sick. Has been for a while. Your dad didn't want us to tell you about your daddy because-"

"Daddy, daddy, daddy! I don't give a shit about what _YOU_ think this 'daddy' was to me! I didn't know him! I _DIDN'T-!"_

Once again, she couldn't finish that. She _DID_ know him. Or at least thought she did. And in the end, it was Quinn and a softly, descending Azimio who helped Carrie Karofsky that evening.

"Carrie?" Azimio asked, entering the room.

"What the hell do you want?" Carrie snapped.

He put his arm around his wife and they both looked at her. "We'd like you to meet your daddy."

Carrie froze. Her brain was numb from the evening and way too much information was shutting her down. She stared at a newspaper on the coffee table, a half-full coffee cup, a landline telephone, and nothing made sense. A low hum resounded in her head and she clasped it as if it hurt. But it didn't. Instead, it just pushed her towards the only answer she could give, the only reason she had for understanding everything about her confusing, fucked up family.

"OK."

.

 **AN: sooooo, what do you all think?**

 **I figured it was time for this. Let me know what you all thought. I'll try to update. Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: Hi everyone!**

 **Thank you ALL for the continued support to this story.**

 **Past a** **n** **d Pr** **e** **sent clash in this chapter.**

 **Get your tissues ready. :(**

 **Please review. Please be kind. Enjoy!**

 **Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

 **Chapter 26**

 **THE LATE 1970s – HOURS BEFORE CARRIE'S DROWNING ACCIDENT**

.

"Really?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, really." Dave answered. "Why not? We haven't had a picnic in a while and it'll be fun. Besides," his arm slipped around Kurt's narrow waist, "it'll be fun to hang out with you and Carrie behind my dad's old barn." Dave leaned towards him. "And another thing, after she eats," fingers tightened on Kurt's hip, "she might nap." Dave pushed his lips to Kurt's ear just as the smaller boy's eyes closed. "Then…I can do things…to you."

Dave's breaths sent shivers throughout Kurt's body and he had to physically push the bigger guy away.

"Dave! Not now! Carrie could-"

"Ohhhhhhh!"

But Kurt just giggled. "I never knew you Russian men could be so dirty."

"Well," Dave ornily said, "we were good at playing in the dirt…as farmers."

Kurt laughed and looked down. "Oh, alright. Besides, I hate you when you don't get your way."

"I love you too."

They just smiled at each other after that. It was close to noon and they were simply sitting at the grand kitchen table. It seemed funny to Kurt that they never really used the dining room. And besides, the kitchen is always the most important room in a house. Well, a farmhouse. Dave sipped more of his morning coffee and considered Irishing it up, but didn't. Kurt looked around the room and could see that the dishes needed to be done, they would have to go shopping, they were nearly out of coffee grounds, the floor needed swept and mopped, and he didn't want to do a damn thing about any of it.

Dave watched him, noticing that Kurt's head tilted a certain way when he was thinking. Kurt's brown hair was brushed back from time to time and after quite some talking to his boyfriend, he finally got his way with the stereo that morning.

Gone was the ancestral music of Russian composers. In its place was the soundtrack to _**SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER.**_ The Bee Gees sung their crotch-grabbing notes and Kurt bee-bopped to the silly music. Dave just loved watching him.

"Did you get Carrie some breakfast?" Kurt suddenly asked.

"Wh-what?" Dave asked, snapping out of his little trance.

"I said, did you get-?"

"Oh, yeah. Then, she went to play upstairs."

"Hmmmmm…."

Dave narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Well," Kurt began, standing up, "I'm wondering what I should make for lunch."

"I love your chicken salad."

Kurt looked down at him with pursed lips. "That takes _FOREVER_ to make. No, we can just have ham sandwiches."

"That's good."

"Then," Kurt said, walking over towards the refrigerator, "I suppose we can have potato salad. And I guess these onion rings won't take too long." He perused the items in the fridge. "And when you have as many vegetables as we do, we can have cru de ta."

Dave didn't know what that meant but left it alone. He had long since known that when it was Kurt's turn to cook, just leave him be.

"And," Kurt continued, "we can have this new iced tea that Quinn introduced me to." he looked further into the refrigerator, "And maybe even some Hawaiian Punch. I know Carrie fuck fuck fuck cocksucker fucking commie bastards die die die."

Dave bolted upright. "Kurt?"

The smaller boy stood up and closed the refrigerator. "Yeah?"

"Are…are you alright?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He crossed the kitchen and began preparing the cru de ta and onion rings.

"I…never mind."

Kurt smiled. "Drink your coffee. And don't Irish it up."

But Dave looked morose. "Alright."

.

An hour later, Carrie was running a kite with Kurt in the backyard. Dave was setting everything up. The only hot dish was the onion rings and if they got a little cold, so be it. Positioned behind the barn on a small, flat hill, Dave got everything set up. It didn't take too long and he seemed to be enjoying himself. He looked up from time to time, watching Carrie struggle to keep the kite afloat. But she was successful sometimes and Kurt applauded her heartily.

"It's ready!" Dave hollered.

Immediately, Kurt took Carrie's hand and all but trotted back up the little hill. The surrounding farmland was close to harvest time and right aromas of corn and wheat permeated their noses. Kurt sat down slightly out of breath and Carrie plopped down demanding Hawaiian Punch.

Dave chuckled and quickly poured her a glass. She extended her left hand towards him.

"With two hands, Carrie."

She quickly shoved her other hand towards him.

"Now, just your right hand." Dave said with an evil grin.

Carrie smiled and dropped her left.

"I said your right hand."

She flipped hands.

"Now your left."

Carrie giggled and fell back on the soft earth. Kurt smiled and Dave thought he was never so happy in his life. He handed her the cup and then started to pour one for Kurt.

"Iced tea for me, please."

Dave changed the pitchers and grabbed the iced tea. "How can you drink this stuff?"

Kurt was only mildly offended. "Because it's good and good for you. Quinn drinks it all the time."

"Well, Quinn is weird."

"Oh, shut up."

Dave laughed but didn't say anything. Instead, he started organizing the food and placing them on plates.

"I want on rings!" Carrie demanded.

Kurt looked at her, accepting a napkin from Dave. "That's ONION, Carrie. Say it with me. Onion." She followed suit and quickly pronounced it correctly. "Very good, Carrie!"

She smiled and took a plate of food from her dad, looking at the half ham sandwich, grapes, and two onion rings on her plate. Grin firmly on her face, she sat there and began eating. Dave handed Kurt a plate of basically the same thing, but when Kurt tried to grab it, Dave held on. The smaller guy looked at him and Dave smiled and winked. Kurt reluctantly smiled and Dave let go.

They began eating. Kurt reached for the cru de ta platter and picked at some celery and radishes. Carrie was absorbed with her grapes. And Dave was already done devouring his ham sandwich. A slightly cool breeze blew by and Carrie's napkin vanished. All three laughed and Dave handed her a new one. The sun had just peeked out of the clouds for the first time that day and the weathervane on top of the barn pointed towards them. They had never eaten out there before and there's something wonderful about families doing new things. Things that make a family a TRUE family. And memories that outlive eternity.

Carrie then looked at her onion rings and cocked her head to the side. Dave and Kurt noticed and then looked at each other.

"What's wrong, Carrie?" Kurt asked.

She held up a tiny ring, no bigger than an engagement ring.

"This one's funny." She muttered. She held it up to him and like a toy prize from a vending machine. Kurt gently took it and looked it over. But when he did, Dave stared at it with a different kind of hunger he hadn't ever felt. Kurt didn't seem to notice and Dave seemed transfixed. So instead of Kurt handing it back to her, Dave snatched it out of his hand!

"Hey!" Kurt exclaimed.

Dave held onto it with two hands and stuck his tongue between his teeth. Cute smile on his face, he flipped his head towards Kurt and immediately, the smaller man knew Dave was up to something.

"What are you doing?" Kurt whined. "Give it back to-"

"I've got an idea!" Dave blurted.

"What?"

Then, he looked at Carrie. "Carrie? I need this, OK?"

"But it's miiiiiine!"

"I know, baby. But we have more onion rings. I want this one."

She huffed and folded her arms. "But-"

"No buts, Carrie." Dave said authoritatively. "This one's mine."

She still didn't like it but left it alone. Then, he turned his attention to this stunning artist, warrior, mechanic, and incredibly good-looking man in front of him.

"Kurt? This is gonna sound crazy, but I've got an idea."

"Oh noooo." Kurt said, putting his hand over his eyes. "What is it, now?"

"Marry me."

Kurt did a double take. "Um, beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." Dave said, standing up. "Carrie can be our witness." She smiled but didn't understand.

"Wh-what?!" Kurt asked with a laugh.

But Dave suddenly turned serious. "I mean it, Kurt."

Carrie and Kurt looked up at him with odd expressions on their faces.

"Did…" Kurt haphazardly began, "Did you Irish up your Hawaiian Punch?"

"Not at all." Dave resolutely said. Then, his voice turned velvety. "Kurt, I know we can't get legally married. And I know we're together anyway. But…I want you to know that even if it's with this stupid onion ring, this is the right time for something like this."

Kurt just stared at him. Carrie finished her grapes.

"Kurt," Dave said, squatting down in front on him, "I mean this. I want this. And I hope you do too. We don't have to do anything if you don't want. But I am so happy!" And then Dave looked away for a second. "This reminds me of when you were hurt in the mobile triage unit back in Nam." Kurt said nothing and Dave shook his head. "Never mind. Anyway, I know this seems silly but I-"

"No, it doesn't." Kurt softly said. And then, he half-smiled. "OK. Yes."

Dave brightened! "Yes?"

"Yes!"

After a long, satisfied grin was shared, Dave turned his attention to their daughter. "Carrie?" She looked up. "Carrie? I have a very important job for you to do."

"Daaaaaad! I already cleaned my room!"

The guys chuckled. "No, Carrie. Not that. But thank you for doing that. What I want you to do is something very, VERY important. Understand?"

"Y-yeah."

He stood up and Carrie did the same thing. "I want you to stand beside your daddy. We're going to do something that you'll just have to understand some day. But you just need to stand there and watch. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yeah!" She immediately ran to Kurt's side and beamed up at them both.

Because they were on a slight incline, Dave was at the top and towered over them both. He didn't like that. So with the onion ring in hand, he gently snatched Kurt's hand and slowly turned him around. Dave then dropped a little lower on the hill so they were eye level. Carrie spun with them. Then, a little embarrassed, Dave didn't quite know what to do or say in that moment. Kurt smiled.

"Just say something, you fool." Kurt jokingly said. It was the right comic relief needed and Dave immediately relaxed. He dipped his head, thought for a second, and then slowly looked up. Kurt was unprepared for the intensity in Dave's eyes that afternoon, as the weathervane continued to point in their direction. Carrie looked up at them and simply smiled – the smile of gratitude and security that all children should have. And then, Dave spoke.

"Kurt…I hope you know that when were in Nam and you agreed to come live with me in Lima, that _WAS_ the happiest day of my life." Dave took a step closer to him. "You _CHANGED_ me. You made me see what I was afraid to see. And feel. And not only that but I hope to grow old with you and laugh at your pot belly!"

Kurt laughed and quickly stopped himself. And then, Dave gently clasped Kurt's free hand.

"But," Dave passionately began, "when you agreed to live with me, I was scared. And I didn't know what to do exactly. I just knew that it would work out. And I think it did. In fact, I know it did. And now, look – we have a daughter." They glanced at Carrie's smiling face and then back into each other's eyes. "And Kurt? I know this isn't legal or anything, but it's real. It's real to US. And that's all that matters."

Dave slipped the greasy, now-cold onion ring on Kurt's ring finger and held it.

"So, with this ring, I thee wed. And I hope that we never part, Kurt."

"Ohhhhh!" Kurt said. Suddenly, he jumped into Dave's arms and held tight. Dave returned the hug and the two young gay men in 1970s Ohio realized that love can certainly be good in this world. When two consenting adults love, that's all that really matters.

Kurt slowly released Dave as the bigger boy did the same.

"I suppose," Kurt shakily started, "this is when we're supposed to kiss."

Dave grinned. "I guess so."

They stared at each other for just a moment before Kurt approached him with sudden seriousness. And then, lips met in a sudden, passionate embrace that abruptly felt so different, so real, so something… Something…

Right. It felt right.

All of a sudden, Kurt stopped the kiss, turned, and started marching up towards the farmhouse!

"Kurt?!" Dave yelled.

The smaller boy came to a halt, about ten steps away. "Yes?"

"What…?"

But Kurt just adoringly smiled. "I'm going inside."

"Now?!"

"Now?!" Carrie echoed.

"Yes, Dave and Carrie. Yes."

"But…?" Dave faltered.

"Well, I have to!" Kurt said. "I mean, I have to get a baggie!"

"A what?!" Dave bewilderingly asked.

"Yes! A baggie!"

"What for?"

Kurt very gently caressed his wedding ring. "I want to put this onion ring in the freezer. You see, David Alan Karofsky, I took this wedding seriously. And I'm going to keep it for as long as I can."

Dave smiled. Carrie clapped. And Kurt was already walking up the front steps of their newlywed house.

.

 **PRESENT DAY**

.

"I wanna go home! I wanna go home and see my daughter! She's turning four fucking years old! I wanna go home! _NOOOOO!"_

"Kurt," Quinn gently said, "Kurt, honey. You need to calm down."

 _"NO!"_ Kurt yelled. "I have to get home! What is wrong with you?!"

"Do you," Azimio dryly said, "even know who she is?"

"Az!" Quinn admonished.

"Of course I know who she is!" Kurt hissed. "Of course I do! She's that goddamn cookie lady who is usually nice but today she's just being a bitch!"

"No, Kurt." Azimio sadly said. "No, she's not."

"I don't care! I wanna go home. Carrie's birthday is tomorrow!"

"No, it's not."

But this statement came from the other side of the room. All three turned to see Carrie with an odd, detached look on her face. She was leaning against the wall, arms folded across her chest. She looked so lost suddenly and couldn't comprehend everything that unfolded. Kurt just looked at her, a blank expression on his face. But then, his scowl returned.

"Yes, it is! _YES IT IS!_ I have to go home. Dave will want ham sandwiches and vodka and Carrie-!" Suddenly he came to a stop. "Oh wait. I didn't get her anything for her birthday."

Azimio and Quinn sighed. Carrie didn't even react. But Kurt suddenly looked hopeful. He looked up at Quinn.

"Can you take me to the mall?"

Quinn couldn't look at him. But Kurt was determined.

"No, no! It's OK. I'm OK now. I'm sorry I was rude. I just need to get a doll or something…something special for her. I have to do this. I _HAVE_ to do this!"

The other three glanced at each other and it was Quinn who finally spoke to Kurt.

"You're…you're not well, Kurt."

"The hell I am! Get me out of here! Get me _THE FUCK OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW! I DEMAND YOU DO THIS! I HAVE TO GET HOME! I HAVE TO-!"_

Orderlies rushed in. Azimio and Quinn had been accustomed to what would happen next and simply stepped aside. But this was all new to Carrie who just watched them. She watched the twine being wrapped around Kurt's arms. She saw how they restrained his feet. Carrie could even see how they put something in Kurt's mouth. He still tried to scream but no words could come out. And then, she watched the syringe go in Kurt's arm again.

Quinn and Azimio headed towards the door. Quinn came to a stop and waved to Carrie to follow her. But she didn't. Instead, she just watched the horrible, horrible show unfold before her. Kurt's body suddenly went still and all of the restraints were swiftly removed. Then, the employees simply left.

Kurt's body was limp and unconscious. Quinn and Azimio stared at him from the doorway, no longer crying when things like this happened. Instead, they just watched Kurt's sleeping form. But suddenly, Carrie walked towards Kurt. The other two held their breath, unsure what would happen next.

Carrie stood over him. She could see he was breathing in his drugged sleep and she didn't move. That was until she looked at his pillow. Abruptly, she grabbed the pillow and repositioned it behind Kurt's head, so it would be better supported. After that was done, she took one more glance at this broken man in bed and then simply left the room.

.

 **AN: What did you all think?**

 **I feel SO bad for everyone involved. :(**

 **I figured it was best to do it this way that way we won't have two separate chapters.**

 **Don't worry more with Carrie and Kurt, now that she knows the truth. :(**

 **Thank you all for reading. Until then... Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Hi Guys! :)**

 **We got 16 favorites and 21 followers! Yaaay! :)**

 **Warning: There is a homophobic slur used here. Read with caution. If this bothers you, click out now. You have been warned.**

 **So here we are, two chapters after this and we are done! Yay! :) lol**

 **I think this will be my first full story that I actually finish? Lol**

 **I am so sad to be almost done. :(**

 **But I can't wait for MANY more stories. So this isn't the end, its only the beginning. I thought about it so much and I could continue this FOREVER BUT all good things must come to an end, right?**

 **I know MANY of you will be dissapointed BUT I am doing this for a reason. Who knows, there might be more to tell in this universe in the future? ;)**

 **THANK YOU to everyone that has followed, reviewed and favorited this. :)**

 **It means SO much to me I can cry. Lol**

 **Anyways, on to the story, Carrie left the hospital last chapter, where is she now? Well you have to read to find out. ;P**

 **I am a stinker... I know! Lol**

 **Anyways, I'll shut up now and let y'all ACTUALLY read this. Lol**

 **Please review. Please be kind. :)**

 **Have a great day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

 **Chapter 27**

"Calculus Schmalculus. I need to see my son! Now!"

The school secretary, of course, didn't appreciate being talked to this way. So, with pursed lips, she reached for the intercom. But remembering a better way to do it, the thin brunette simply reached for her work cell phone and fired off a text. When she was done, she looked back up at her.

"Alright, Miss. Karofsky. I've texted Dave's teacher."

Carrie relaxed just a little. "Thank you."

Then, the secretary narrowed her eyes. "You can wait over on the chairs over there."

Carrie watched where she pointed and strode over to the plastic seats. She gracefully seated and looked over at the secretary. Of course, Carrie just had to plaster a smarmy smile on her face as the other one just glared at her. Regardless, the job was done and Carrie waited. A clock on the wall indicated it was just after 11:30AM and she sighed. Besides, if the truth would be told, she was very nervous about all of this.

Carrie had a plan. She had a very important plan, in fact. But in order for this to work, she'd have to talk to her son. And lately, this had proven to be very difficult. Out of habit, she checked her cell phone. There were reports of no recent school shootings across the country, the president finally went to North Korea to negotiate peace, and bombings decreased in Syria. As she read, it was strange to see that even the news had good…news. She hoped it was some kind of omen.

Just then, Dave Jr. walked into the office. His eyes widened when he saw his mother sitting there. She stood up. And just when Dave was about to ask her what she was doing there, Carrie strode right back up to the secretary.

"I need to take my son out for an hour or so." She stiffly said.

"Of course." The secretary said. "Just sign here."

"I'm not signing my son's life away."

The secretary resisted rolling her eyes. "It's just to show that he's off school grounds now. That's all."

After a disapproving tilt of her head, Carrie signed the paper with a signature worthy of a doctor. She didn't even wait to see if it was OK before she turned around and headed towards the door.

"Come on, Dave."

He easily kept up with her as she opened it. Dave started to ask her what was going on when she held up her hand for her son to be silent. So, after passing through the double doors, they briskly walked towards her car. She unlocked it, they got in, and silently, they left the school grounds.

Teddy Bear Park had always been a fun place for Dave Jr. as a child. There was always something to do and McKinley often had field trips there. He remembered all of the maple syrup festivals, the fire department exhibitions, and other small-town events that helped make the park that much more fun. As his mom drove, she pulled up to a small barbeque area, not far from the swingsets where Dave once scraped his elbow when he was seven. They quietly emerged from the car. Dave watched her reach for a picnic basket in the back seat and she marched over to a picnic table. He followed.

Oh, what a warm day it was that day! The sun finally peeked and Dave squinted in the sunshine. There was no breeze and they were completely alone. But something wasn't sitting right with Dave. His mom hadn't done anything like this before and he wasn't sure what was happening. Nevertheless, he had to jog a little to keep up with his fastwalking mother.

Carrie plopped the basket on the table and began pulling out its contents. Dave, who had just arrived beside her, couldn't believe his eyes. She pulled out a variety of sandwiches, chips, cru de ta, Coca-cola, napkins, pickled eggs, and even some salmon dip. He stared at her wondrously but she simply ignored him.

"Eat." She ordered.

Dave looked at everything and couldn't admit he was hungry. But he pulled up the salmon dip and stared at it.

"Salmon dip…" he softly said. "My favorite."

She didn't say anything. He looked over at her.

"Thanks, mom."

Again, she was silent. Carrie her kept her eyes forward, seeing the swingsets, the teeter-totters, the mulch on the ground. She remembered when Dave had a booboo on his elbow and actually blew on it when he came home that day. He was crying and she knew her son would be OK. He just had to suck it up and deal with the iodine. Had she looked to her right, she would've seen her son eating chips and salmon dip with a HUGE smile on his face. But she didn't.

Dave had his mouth full. "Why di you oo is, om?"

She shook out of her reverie and looked at him. "What?"

He swallowed. "Why did you do this, mom?"

She stared off into the distance, as she brushed some of her brown hair from her eyes. Dave watched her, noticing that her back was slouched and her blue blouse fluttered in the breeze. He didn't like what he was seeing and resisted more of the delicious dip.

"Mom?"

She reached over towards the basket and grabbed something. "Here, Dave. Have a ham sandwich." She tossed it to him. But he just glared at it for a long moment and then right over at her.

"Mom?" He asked. "What's going on?"

She sighed. "I remember when you hurt yourself over on those swingsets." She even pointed there. He looked and then returned his eyes to his suddenly odd mother.

"I don't."

She finally turned her head to him. "You don't?"

"No." Dave answered, opening the baggie with a ham and cheese sandwich inside. "I don't."

"Well, you were quite the pistol then."

"I was?" Dave asked, taking a hefty bite.

"Oh yes…" she said, with an almost smile. "You see, I knew you'd be strong and tough when I said you had to be."

Dave swallowed and shook his head. "Huh. I don't remember."

Finally, _FINALLY_ , she smiled at him. "Well, you were pretty young. You were crying and you scraped your elbow on the mulch at the swingsets. You wouldn't stop blubbering and I told you to-"

"Oh yes!" Dave exclaimed. "Now I remember! You said…" his voice softened. "You said I had to be tough to handle things like this."

"Yes…" she breathed. "Yes. And I…" she folded her hands together, "I guess I still do mean that."

Dave placed the sandwich on the table. "Mom? What's this all about-?"

"I always knew you'd be strong." She said. "I always knew that. I _ALWAYS_ knew that. A mother knows these things, you know." He grinned but said nothing. "And when a mother thinks she…knows her son, she isn't always prepared for…surprises."

Dave knew exactly what she was talking about. "Mom, I didn't plan on being gay."

"Don't say that word." She warned.

He got defensive. "Why not?"

"Oh shit…this is NOT how I wanted this to go."

Dave was confused! "Mom! What in the hell-?"

"I saw Kurt."

Dave immediately went silent. He turned away from her as they sat beside each other, but might as well have been on the moon. There was a little squirrel nearby running up a tree and he found his eyes following it for as long as he could. And when that delaying tactic didn't work any longer, he finally looked back at her. Carrie had a stony, unreadable expression on her face. This little Russian standoff was going as long as he wanted and Dave took action.

"You did?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And?"

She brushed more hair away from her forehead but kept her eyes on the swingsets. "He's…messed up."

"You got that right!" He said with a laugh. But when that didn't get a reaction, he calmed down.

"I found out," she began, "that he was my…daddy."

"I know." Dave solemnly said.

But Carrie flipped her head towards him. "You do?"

"Yes, mom."

She huffed. "Seems like every person in my family knows more than I do."

"Not really." He said with a shrug. "I mean, I only learned a little while ago. And he was somethin' else, apparently."

She turned towards him and sadly said, "I have no memory of him." Dave said nothing while his mom just stared at him. And then, her facial expression dropped. "Well, maybe that's not true. I've had dreams…"

"Dreams?" Dave asked, reaching for a Coca-cola.

"Never mind." She said. "Anyway, I need to understand something here."

Dave took a swig of the black, bubbly liquid and set the can down. "Alright. What?"

"You're a fag?"

Dave bristled on the inside but calmed himself down. "The term is GAY. And yes, I am."

"Well, I can't deal with this. I mean, I just found out my own dad is gay and you are and this Kurt guy seemed to mess things up for my mom and him and-"

"He didn't mess things up, mom!" Dave insisted. "Grandpa and Kurt loved each other."

"No, they didn't."

"Yes, mom! Yes, they did. And I'm sorry you can't handle-"

 _"GODDAMMIT!"_

Dave and Carrie came to a sudden stop. She clenched her fists together and lowered her head. He watched, not knowing what to do suddenly. Instinctively, he reached for the can and took another swig. The squirrel reappeared and he let himself be distracted by that.

"I'm trying." She quickly muttered.

"What?"

"I said, I'm trying."

Dave was immediately suspicious. "Trying…what?"

She looked down. "I don't even really know what."

But he was frustrated! "Mom! I'm gay! Grandpa's gay! And Kurt was your daddy! You can't walk away from this! I sure as hell can't! And when you let yourself accept that, you will be just _FINE_!"

It seemed like every single word he said physically hurt her. Her chin was now on her chest and her arms firmly planted on the table for support. She didn't reply and he just looked at her. Once again, he took another swig from the Coca-cola can and was reminded of how his grandpa did that with his Stolichnaya. He could see his grandpa then in his mind… Cackling, smiling, drinking his stupid aparativs, listening to the '1812 Overture', and complimenting Kevin on his cooking.

Kevin.

Dave's head flipped up. "Grandpa likes Kevin."

"Please, Dave!" Carrie whined. "It's already hard enough to accept this stuff without you making it worse!"

"What the hell are you talking about, mom?" Dave screamed. "I can't hide from this." And then, that old Karofsky bullying voice bellowed. "And you can't either!"

The first tear fell from Carrie's eyes. Dave was panting as he glared at her. And neither could function very well after that. That lone squirrel disappeared again.

"Dave," she whispered, "please don't make this harder than it already is."

"What, mom?!"

Again, she looked like she was in pain. "I'm really trying here… You're my son and I…l-love you. But I…"

Dave cockily leaned back. "Oh, I get it. I absolutely get it! You're fine with me for who I am _EXCEPT_ who I really _AM_!"

Shame. Complete, utter, earth-shattering, dam-busting, floodgate shame filled her heart then. A second tear fell from her eyes.

"Dave…" she uttered. "Please…give me time."

"Time for what?! To accept me? To accept grandpa? To accept grandma? To accept _AZIMIO? TO ACCEPT KEVIN?!"_

"Yes." She calmly said. "Yes. All of it. I just…" She covered her mouth and all but whispered, "I don't know what to do."

He looked at her with a sudden soft expression on his face. "Al-…alright, mom."

She braved looking up at him. "R-really?"

His face hardened. "I can't change who I am."

Carrie's head flashed. "I guess you can't."

"And I don't want you to use the 'F' word again."

"I won't."

"And…"

But Dave never finished. Instead, he looked at her and didn't quite know what to do or say. So in the end, he did the only thing he could think of, the only possible way to get her to know how he felt, and how he could ensure her that she was still his mother. He slowly stood up and took a shot of courage from his Coke can. He set it down and looked at her.

"Mom?"

She looked up, at least five fresh tears on her face. "Y-yes?"

Suddenly, Dave kneeled down and hugged her! She collapsed against him, her arms along his strong back. Dave fought back his own tears as his mom let go of the rest of hers. They held each other tightly, as squirrels, leaves, napkins, and even their clothing fluttered in a sudden, warm breeze. Terrible wails fell from his mom's mouth and Dave probably hurt her with a stronger embrace. And yet, throughout all of this, it seemed they couldn't separate as mother and son reached a better understanding…then.

Dave abruptly pulled back and stood up, wiping his left eye. She quickly turned and started being a mother hen – she scooped all of the leftover food into the basket. He watched the squirrel stand up on its hind legs and actually stare at him. He was astonished that this little marsupial was just looking at him, like nature was sending a message of some kind. Dave could hear his mother sniffling and scooping things up in the basket, but he didn't care. Instead, he remembered how his mom's arms felt around him and the squirrel blinked. Then, an idea hit him.

"Mom!"

She jumped. "What?"

"Give me a piece of bread!"

"What? Why?"

"I wanna feed the squirrel over there!"

His boyish smile matched her inquisitive one. And then, she breathed a relieved smile and grinned up at him. Quickly, she tore some Wonder bread from a sandwich and looked up.

"Here ya' go, Dave."

He broadly smiled. "Thanks, mom!"

Then, Dave turned and approached the squirrel. But he was immediately alarmed! It was no longer on his hindquarters and went into a defensive position. Recognizing that, Dave slowed his advance.

"Here ya' go, little buddy." He cooed. Behind him, Carrie watched her son, knowing this was still her son and that she loved him.

"Easy now, Dave." She said.

"I will."

Then, he very softly advanced towards it. "C'mere. C'mon. C'mere…"

The squirrel wasn't convinced. It sprinted back a few steps but suddenly came to a stop. So, Dave threw the piece of bread towards it. He fully expected the little buddy to run away, but instead, it ran right to it! The squirrel snatched it up and immediately began chewing. Dave stood upright, smiling.

And Carrie relearned something then – her son had a wonderful, warm heart.

.

 **AN: So, what did you all think?**

 **Two more chapters to go... Until then. This has been SO MUCH FUN! THANK YOU! Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	28. Chapter 28

**AN: Hello everybody!**

 **I just wanted to say from the bottom of my heart...**

 **Thank you ALL so much for Reviewing, following and favoriting.**

 **It means SO much to me that I have support for this story.**

 **THANK YOU ALL so much for THIS INCREDIBLE journey! I can't believe its almost over! ;)**

 **This is the second to last chapter and then we are done.**

 **Without getting too EMOTIONAL, This has been a WONDERFUL experience and I'm going to miss it. :)**

 **You all rock! I love you all. X3**

 **I'm not going to spoil what happens here. So without further interruptions... Please review. Please be kind. Have a great day or night!**

 **Enjoy!-ILOVESMESOMELGEEX3**

 **Chapter 28**

He always hated it when his hands hurt. No man likes to admit he has chronic pain but Dave Sr. did. And when you're a stubborn Russian, you just can't be weak. Of course, he would never admit he struggled to remove the plastic lid from the Stolichnaya bottle. It was practically murder as he prepared the Shchi – cutting up the meat bones, cabbage, and the tiny garlic threw him into a minor frenzy of pain. Nevertheless, there's something about stubbornness – it can solve everything.

So after the Shchi started to boil, he retired to the kitchen table and plopped at the head. He looked up. Dave could see where Kurt's favorite Andy Warhol used to be. Then, he looked to his right. Quinn's silly apron was hanging there, begging to be put on. He looked to his left. Kevin left his algebra textbook on a stool.

Almost angrily, he hobbled into the living room and sought solace with something he'd always relied on – Tchaikovsky. His favorite composer always seemed to be on the old record player and he almost smiled. Setting his vodka glass down, he placed the needle on the record and ignored the slightly scratchy sound.

But after that, the gorgeous opening strings began and Dave Sr. closed his eyes. The music swelled and once again, with the healing power of music, Dave didn't feel pain. He didn't feel heartbreak. Instead, he just lost himself in what is the absolutely wonderful thing about music – you can actually feel happy…

The phone rang. Immediately annoyed, he wobbled over to it and answered it.

"Hello?!"

"Dave?" Quinn asked.

"Hey. What's up?"

"'What's up?'"

"Well, yeah." Quinn giggled. "What? I can talk like kids nowadays."

Quinn finally stopped. "We want to come over tonight."

A piece of Dave's heart fluttered for a bit and then he calmed down. "Well, if you want. I'm making Shchi."

"What?"

"Shchi!"

She groaned. "Oh no… Not another one of those Russian disasters!"

"Oh shut up."

She laughed again, always making Dave feel a fraction better. "We'll be over in a half an hour."

"The Shchi won't be ready then."

There was a dark silence. "We won't be hungry, Dave."

"We?"

She hung up. Suddenly, Dave didn't like this at all. And as the trumpets blared on the stereo, he wondered just what was going on.

Almost exactly one half hour later, Quinn pulled up the long road. He didn't hear her of course, but he could sense her. People who have been friends that long simply know these things. He was stirring the soup when he heard the front door open.

"Dave?" Quinn asked from afar.

"In the kitchen!"

The door was held open for a little while and multiple footsteps were heard. Dave didn't bother and wanted to welcome his company with tasty soup and vodka. The '1812 Overture' blared more violently and he threw a dishtowel over his shoulder. He kept his back to them as those steps were now heard in the kitchen.

"I wish," he began, "that I had more time, Quinn. I could've-"

But he turned around. In front of him were Quinn, Azimio, and Carrie. They all had pensive looks on their faces and Dave just stared at all of them. Looking towards the sink, he dropped the dishtowel on the counter and began washing his hands.

"You know," Dave said, scrubbing soap, "I feel like I'm suddenly in one of those intervention tv shows."

Quinn took a few steps towards the table, dropping her purse there. "Not really. We just wanted to see you."

"Bullshit." He said, wiping his hands on a paper towel. Suddenly, he got angry. "Bullshit, Quinn! And I said I'm not going to see Kurt!"

No one saw Azimio leave the room.

Carrie walked towards the head of the table, placing her hands on her dad's chair. "Dad?"

Dave came to an abrupt halt and looked at her. Despite her anger and disrespect lately, he could see with his sixty-two year old eyes how beautiful she could be. Her brunette hair hung by her shoulders and her eyes had a strong yet pleading quality. Dave didn't respond.

"I've seen him." She whispered.

"Carrie!" Quinn admonished.

"Oh, I did! I know that wasn't part of this little plan or anything but I-"

"Plan?" Dave asked, taking a few steps towards the table. "What plan?"

Suddenly, the music was turned off. A few seconds later, Azimio came back into the room and noticed everyone was starting at him.

"What?" he asked. "I hate that Russian shit."

Dave ignored him and looked at his old friend. "What's going on, Quinn?"

She took a deep breath, placing her hands on a kitchen chair for stability. Her lips were pursed and she could feel Azimio's presence right behind her. And as she struggled to find the right words, the chair began to shake. Quinn's luscious blonde hair fell across her face and suddenly, strong hands held her shoulders. She seemed to relax but only a little. And as expected, Dave was losing patience.

"Will somebody tell me what is going on here?!" He yelled.

"Dad?" Carrie asked.

"What?!"

"Your soup is going to boil over."

He turned around and saw a heap of steam nearly boiling over the edge!

"Oh shit!" Dave said. He waddled over to it, grabbed the hotpads and removed it from the stove. After placing it on the side, he turned the burner off and threw the hotpads on the counter. But when he turned around, Quinn was suddenly right in front of him!

"Dave?" she softly asked.

"What?"

"We…" Quinn looked away, unable to look him in the eye, "we introduced Carrie to Kurt yesterday."

Dave was stunned! He looked at her, unwilling to negotiate what his ears just heard. A soft hum formed seemingly all around him and he tilted his head to the right. He placed a firm hand on the kitchen counter and just stared at her. Quinn still wouldn't look at him and everyone else was silent.

"You…" he stuttered. "You…introduced Carrie…to…?"

She finally looked up at him and instantly regretted it. "Yes, Dave."

" _GODDAMMIT_ , Quinn!"

She burst into tears!

"What the hell is the matter with you?! You promised, you _PROMISED_ you wouldn't do that! And what else have you done? HUH?!" Dave was screaming! " _IF YOU EVER DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT AGAIN, I'LL WILL HATE YOU FOREVER, YOU FUCKING BITCH!"_ Azimio took a few steps forward, but Quinn waved him off. _"AND I'LL BET YOU LOVED IT TOO! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO OUR FAMILY! YOU HAVE SERIOUSLY FUCKED UP HERE QUINN! I'LL BET YOU TOLD HER ABOUT HER ALMOST DROWNING WHEN SHE-!"_

Dave suddenly stopped. Panting he couldn't look at her and turned away from her, both hands now on the sink for stability. He was shaking, Quinn was near sobbing, and surprisingly, it was Carrie who spoke.

"I already knew that, dad."

Dave said nothing.

"I mean, I learned about it a little while ago. But I'm OK now, you know? I'm OK. I mean, I'm not perfect, but…" she inhaled deeply, "Yeah, I'm OK."

Six eyes stared at her with astonished looks on their faces. Carrie wasn't used to all this attention and just looked at them all one at a time.

"Well," she heartily began, "I'm allowed to be OK, aren't I?"

"Yeah, Carrie." Azimio softly said. "Of course."

And just for a brief moment, stepfather and stepdaughter shared a small smile.

"Dave," Quinn began, turning back to her best friend, "remember when I said I'd keep your promise until I felt it necessary to reveal it?"

He wouldn't turn around and stayed quiet.

"Well, that's what I did." She said with an air of defiance. "That's exactly what I did. And I don't regret it. Carrie was hurting. She still is, I think." She glanced at her daughter, who didn't say anything. So, Quinn returned her attention to him. "She's better for it. And I know you wanted to protect Carrie and all but I really think it's time for you to accept the past and…" She went for the jugular. "saw Kurt."

"Leave." Dave muttered.

"Dave-" Azimio began.

 _"LEAVE! GET OUT!"_

"Dad-!"

 _"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!"_

Reluctantly, Azimio and Carrie slowly turned and walked through the kitchen and out the door. After some painful seconds, Quinn turned and started to leave, but stopped near the edge of the room.

"Save that soup for Kevin." She morosely said. "Dave says he likes Russian food."

And with that, she left. Dave stayed there, locked against the kitchen sink. Unable to move, think, breathe properly, feel, or even function, Dave stood there like a statue. But the funny thing about statues is that despite how well they're made, they can all break.

.

The soup needed stirred. No music was heard. In fact, there wasn't a single sound in the house that didn't come from the steady breathing of David Karofsky. He stared at the sink as if he didn't know what else to do. There was a fly that landed on his right hand and he didn't even bother to swat it. And that low hum was back. It flooded his ears and he cocked his head to the side, a vain attempt to shield his world from the harsh reality of his life.

When he finally did move, he didn't really do anything. His feet became lead as he meandered around the room. Dave had no destination. He just slumbered around and didn't feel pain at all. In fact, his stupor had replaced his existence with that of a shadow – a life that could've been.

But wasn't.

Somewhere in his near-conscious mind, he did put the bowl of Shchi in the refrigerator. He didn't even remember why that would be necessary. He just knew that was the right thing to do. Dave stared at the dumb magnets on the refrigerator and quickly lost interest. The door to the right was a pantry that was only used in winter. But there was a certain object in there that he was drawn to suddenly. So, Dave opened the door, walked to the back of the room, and grabbed it, wiping off some dust. Then, he simply left the room with it, closing the door behind him. He soon left the kitchen without grabbing the Stolichnaya. Instead, he walked into his living room.

It was silent. Instinctively, he went to his stereo and put the '1812 Overture' back on. And when the passive violins sung so, so lightly, he finally came to a complete and utter halt.

He dropped the object on the floor and wholly fell apart. Dave fell to his knees as the years and years of pain that haunted him threatened to consume him! He could feel his heart racing and the acne on his throat really started to itch. Dave then fell forward, cradling his face in his hands on the floor. Bent over, he let go of more of his pain as nothing could be heard but more strings on the stereo.

Dave fell to his side in a fetal position. Of all of the moments of heartache in his life, this one consumed every single fiber of his being. Tears fell out like a miser and he started banging the floor!

 _RAGE_! Suddenly, Dave got up and started destroying the living room! Pillows flew, the couch cracked, lamps were thrown, and a thunderous roar escaped his mouth. Curtains ripped, windows broke, lamps snapped, and Dave cried the entire time. More screams, more destruction, and nothing seemed to be out of his reach!

And then, in his blind anger, he destroyed the stereo. Everything stopped after that. He looked at the broken disc in the collapsed record player he inherited from his father. The record totally snapped and there was no way the '1812 Overture' could be played. Breathing heavily and scratching his neck, he collapsed on the floor and let his head drop. He pouted and cried like a three-year old, sobbing and sobbing.

"Stop…" Dave uttered. "Please…stop." He wiped his nose with his finger. "Oh God, please stoooooop…"

And when he wasn't satisfied with that, he just cried again. Shoulders slumped, arms hung uselessly at his sides, and he couldn't open his eyes. David Karofsky was lost. Just…lost.

He looked to his right and felt worse. The destruction he caused pushed him that much closer through despair. But when he looked to his left, he was astonished. The object from the pantry wasn't damaged.

It was Kurt's locker from Vietnam.

A chuckle went through him. And then, he fell on his back in hilarious laughter! Huge guffaws of giggles sung in the air and he even kicked his feet like a little kid. Of all the things that didn't break in that room that evening, of course it wasn't Kurt's locker. Of course!

Dave positioned himself a bit more upright as he tried to control his laughter. It didn't exactly work and he fell on his back again. His ribs hurt, his lungs burned, but suddenly, the very idea that Kurt Hummel's locker wasn't damaged seemed to be a minor miracle.

Or luck.

Finally, Dave gathered himself and sat up. He pulled the locker towards him and looked at it for a brief moment. Of course, he knew what was inside. But sometimes, when you haven't looked in closable trunks and lockers in a while, you get curious about what's in there. Nostalgia can be a powerful thing.

Dave opened the case. Kurt's army uniform was in there. There was a bit of damage on the collar from moths but other than that, it looked pristine in the darkened light of the destroyed living room. The .9mm handgun was there as well as an old canteen and that ugly draft card from 1972. Dave chuckled at that and set those things aside. And when he looked back inside, he wasn't surprised at all what was there.

An Agent Orange canister. He snatched it and threw it in his hands a couple of times. He chuckled when he remembered showing this to his grandson. Dave stopped twirling it and looked at it. The Army had some codes on it and the yellow had begun to fade. He even wondered if he should still be handling it after all this time. And yet, after all he'd been through in his life, he really didn't give a fuck.

Of course, there was another memory with this too – the night Kurt left home. He swore he'd never think of this again. But that's the thing about promises, as he found out earlier with Quinn. You just can't guarantee anything in life. Dave remembered how Kurt was in Vietnam.

 _ ****BOOM!****_

 _ ****Dave, we gotta get the fuck outta here!****_

 _ ****I love you, Dave****_

 _ ****Mortars! Get down!****_

Dave blinked several times and had to shake his head. He did _NOT_ need to remember the horrors of war. He wanted to remember something but in that exact moment, he didn't know what. Dave glanced around the living room and found no answers. So, he returned his gaze to the ugly canister in his hand and remembered that this, this terrible weapon of war, this awful reminder of political bullshit, this dumb way to meet the love of your life, actually helped him feel a bit of joy. Perhaps.

Suddenly, Dave smiled.

"Have it your way, Kurt." He softly said. "I'm comin' to see ya'."

.

 **AN: So, what did you guys think?**

 **Last chapter coming soon...**

 **Until then, have a great day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


	29. Chapter 29

**A Thank you and AN: Hi everyone!**

 **So, this is SO hard for me to write WITHOUT getting emotional. Lol**

 **I'm sorry if this is terribly long but I wanted to share my emotions.**

 **This is the very last chapter to this WONDERFUL ride!**

 **I AM SO GRATEFUL TO EVERYONE FOR THEIR PATIENCE AND KIND WORDS.**

 **I know I take 87 years to update lol BUT I am so glad you all have stuck by me through this. I am going to truly miss this story.**

 **I started out writing fanfic back in 2014 because I was going through some TOUGH things in my life. I wanted to become a fanfic writer because other stories have HELPED me through the pain and heartache in my life. And I wanted to do the same for people going through some stuff too. I have met the KINDEST most loyal people on here. People that kick my ass into gear even when I feel like giving up. I know this is corny but imma say it anyways, I wouldn't be able to do this without you all!**

 **I started this story because besides the obvious that Kurtofsky is my ship. I started it because I had a dream about this particular story. Who knew this would lead me here today. :)**

 **This is the first story I am finishing BUT its NOT my last. Far from it. :)**

 **Glee has helped me through hard times and I am SO grateful it did.**

 **Ok, now that I got all mushy lol!**

 **On to the story, I won't spoil it BUT I hope you all enjoy! So for the very last time... Please review. Please be kind. Have a great day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

 **Chapter 29**

His eyes opened.

He could see his clothes laid out for the day on a nearby grandfather rocker. There were some dust bunnies floating around the room in the early morning sunshine. He reasoned with himself whether he should clean his house, do chores around the barn, join a cult, or cut off his arm. But his dark, smarmy, personal jokes didn't really help. In fact, they made it worse.

Almost immediately, he felt nervous. This was going to be a momentous day. Not necessarily good or anything, but he just didn't know.

He turned on his side. Across from him was that ugly yellow Edwardian wallpaper he always hated. Why his dad would choose that was beyond him, but it was even stranger that he didn't replace it himself.

So in the end, Dave rolled to a sitting position. He had that yucky taste in his mouth from sleep, his eyes burned in the light, his back, legs, hips, pelvis, shoulders, and fingers hurt, and he was afraid to stand up. Sure he was afraid to stand because he could easily fall over. At least when he first woke up. But he was scared for another reason.

He had a mission that day.

But bravery took over and he immediately thought of Quinn. She had survived so much in her life and Dave almost smiled. He considered her beautiful, feminine smile, and the way she always seemed to get him to do whatever she wanted. And yet he never felt taken for granted. Instead, he had finally heeded to her advice (albeit helped by Azimio, Dave Jr., and Kevin) and was going to do what he needed to do.

With sudden determination, Dave stood up and began his day – a quick visit to the bathroom, a whorebath, and dressing in his finest Wrangler jeans and flannel shirt. After that, he took the stairs one at a time. Morning hips just don't work all that well. And then, he saw the damage in his living room and tried his best to ignore it. But it can be difficult to bypass when you have to leap over broken records and furniture.

He entered the kitchen and prepared his breakfast. Instead of having something quick, he had a full breakfast – five scrambled eggs, four sausage links, hash browns, and whole milk. A meal suitable for a Russian. He chuckled to himself as he ate his food. The milk was nearly sour be he didn't care. He'd probably go to the store after his mission.

But all too soon, he was done with his food. He sat back and let his food settle for a few moments. Dave refused to look into the living room. It's not like he needed a reminder of the Karofsky temper. His mind drifted back to the times when Kurt would houseclean.

Kurt was quite the dictator. 'Dave, move this couch!', 'Stop working in the barn and help me!', 'Get that cat out of this house, Dave!, 'If you're real good to me, I'll make Spanakopita.'

Dave closed his eyes. Memories can be wonderful but they can be devastating as well.

Forcing himself up, he grabbed his dirty dishes and began loading the dishwasher. After placing the dirty pans in there as well, he wiped the countertops, stove, sink, and even the refrigerator. Dave huffed and puffed as he went along while his acne-laden throat itched like mad. And that's when it hit him.

He was procrastinating.

With a heavy sigh, he lumbered over to the sink and dropped the washrag in it. A strange hum filled his ears then when he stood there. His eyes closed once again and he found he couldn't move. The sound resonated within his brain and saturated the parts that weren't Agent Orange-infected. He felt like he was in a huge, dark warehouse and couldn't see through it. Dave's breath became erratic and his teeth clenched. Life and death were no longer the same, museums could never be warm, you could definitely fish with concrete, and polka dots really do go with orange…

Dave snapped his eyes open! Immediately, he had to hold onto the sink for balance. He was out of breath and clutched his heart out of habit. Dave realized he couldn't continue to do this. He had to finish this. Or start this over. But he had to do this. He just had to.

After he recovered, Dave Karofsky strode over to the foyer, grabbed his keys and left his house. Even in that moment, it seemed like he was leaving it for a very long time.

He had memorized the drive there. He had known it for decades. And yet, as he turned his old, beat-up truck onto State Route 65, he didn't flinch like he usually did when he saw those gothic towers. For a moment, Dave thought he would collapse right then and there and get into an accident. But he surprised himself by doing just nicely, parking the truck in the Scarlet Towers parking lot.

Dave cut the engine. He stared at the steering wheel. Fingers roamed the ridges and soon he traced them around and around. Then he made sure the gearshift was in park. He checked the windshield wipers. Yes, they were fine. The turn signals were off. Yes, good too. Headlights? Yup – they were out. The radio? Wasn't even turned on.

"Dammit…" Dave muttered. He was doing it again. Procrastinating. It's funny how easy that happens.

Laboriously, he got out of the truck but kept his head down. Some stiff joints made it difficult to walk through the parking lot but he made due. As he approached the entrance to Scarlet Towers, he could see a few people outside the facility. They were either employees on smoke breaks or family smoking to deal with what was inside. Dave didn't even want to look at them anymore.

He opened the door. He took a breath.

Then, the inner door. Dave's body shook.

He approached the metal detectors. His eyesight went blurry for just a second.

"Name?" a guard suddenly asked, making Dave jump.

"Uh, Dav-…" he cleared his throat. "Dave Karofsky."

The guard looked confused. "Weren't you just here not too long ago?"

"No."

"Huh. Well, put any metal on this conveyor belt. I need to know who you're visiting too." And then, the guard looked at him again curiously. "Are you here to see Kurt Hummel?"

Stunned, Dave said, "Yes." The guard said nothing, losing interest.

Dave removed his keys and trusty Kizylar pocketknife. He dropped them in the little tray and walked through the detectors with no problem. The guard hardly looked at him anymore and silently handed him his things. But when the dumb guard ignored him, Dave was confused.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

The guard turned around. "Yes?"

"Isn't there…" he looked down for a moment and then right back up. "Are there any restrictions on who can see Kurt Hummel?"

"Well," he said, approaching a computer at his desk, "let me see…" He perused the file for a while and then looked back up at Dave. "Nope. None here."

"But…?"

"There isn't, Mr. Krofksy." And then, he took another look. "Oh! There WAS a restriction, but it was lifted about thirty years ago."

 _THIRTY YEARS AGO._ Dave thought he would faint right then and there. After all this time, his pathetic excuse he publicly said was gone. And no one told him! Of course, no one probably knew. Still though, it was not the news he wanted to hear and Dave simply turned and walked forward. His heart felt like it was breaking.

Despite the attempts to visit in the past, Dave had never been there before. He knew the room number. He knew the floor. But finding the elevator in that decrepit old building was a bit of a chore for him. Every single step seemed like more work than operating a compost mixer. Eventually, he found the elevator just as a young girl, not much older than ten, got in the elevator with him. The doors shut.

Dave looked down. Her brunette pigtails were uneven and she was playing with her chewing gum. She appeared to be nervous and looked up at him fearfully. He tried to smile at her, but it just came across as something aghast. So, she simply turned around and stared at the doors. The elevator was very slow and Dave couldn't take his attention away from her.

"Aren't you a little young to be here on your own?" Dave asked. She shook at his baritone voice and wouldn't turn around. "I…I'm here to…to…to…see my daddy."

"Are you?" Dave asked with a softened voice.

"Yeah." She answered, twirling her hair in her fingers. "He's sick."

"Well, my dear, I hope he gets better."

Pause. "He won't." Dave frowned. Then, the doors opened to the second floor. But neither person moved. The girl looked up at him and he could see the sadness in her face.

"Are you getting out?" she asked.

Dave snapped out of it. "Y-yeah. Yeah." He exited the doors, but abruptly turned around, placing his hands on the door. Dave looked down to her and THIS time, warmly smiled.

"Don't worry, little girl." He began. "I'm sure your daddy will come home to you as soon as possible."

"Yeah?" she enthusiastically asked.

"Well, yeah! He's getting good care here. Sometimes people just need to heal."

"Yeah!"

They shared a warm smile and the elevator door started dinging. So Dave let it go and took a step back.

"Bye, little girl!"

She waved to him. "By-" The doors closed before she could finish.

Dave was all alone. He stared at the elevator doors and hoped the girl would be OK. But he couldn't help but think of what his own day would bring. With no visitors, nurses, or doctors in the immediate area, David Karofsky was completely on his own for the first time in his life. This was nothing like fighting commies in Vietnam. Or arguing with Quinn. Or yelling at Azimio. Or even reasoning with his grandson and Carrie. No. This was something completely different and out of his realm of understanding.

He turned to the right and saw the sign towards the room number he wanted. And then, Dave began to walk. Each step hurt him, physically and emotionally. He didn't really have any thoughts in that moment as he inhaled the harsh, hospital odors. Instead, Dave just wanted to see him. He missed him. Oh, how he missed him. And all too soon, he saw the nameplate –

 _ **223**_

 _ **HUMMEL**_

Dave swallowed. He even took a deep breath. And remembering how he carried Kurt out of the jungles of Vietnam, he took that moon-landing step over the threshold and into Kurt's room.

Kurt was sitting Indian style on his bed, eating a cookie. He fiddled with the chocolate chips, picking at his three-day old facial hair. Kurt could never really grow a beard and he didn't really like that. He hummed a little to something in his head, non-sensical words coming out of his mouth. His brown and gray hair flopped around and he seemed so happy with his little cookie. Kurt wore a simple orange t-shirt and hospital shorts. Suddenly, his hand twirled in the air as if he were conducting something in the air. He turned to look at it as he smiled for absolutely no reason but his own. Then, he returned to the cookie.

A shadow crossed in front of the sick man. He looked at it, noticing how the shadow seemed so large and then vanished under his bed. Kurt thought about looking for it and even got on all fours to investigate.

Dave simply watched. He knew something like this would happen and didn't exactly know what to say or do. So, he just took the initiative with something simple…

"Kurt?"

The smaller man looked up. A flash of memory seemed to hit him suddenly and he couldn't believe his eyes. His backside flopped back on the bed and he stared at this bigger guy, seeing the ugly scars on his face, the acne on his throat much like his own.

Dave scratched his neck. Kurt then did the same.

Dave let his hand go down towards his heart. And Kurt did this as well.

"Kurt?"

But Kurt was confused. "Y-yes?"

Dave felt like he was having a panic attack. "I'm…I'm here."

Kurt didn't respond. They stared at each other, neither knowing what was really happening. And yet, wheels were turning in their heads and gradually, Kurt recognized who was standing before him.

"Mr. Hummel?" This voice came from afar. A redhead nurse came in and walked towards him. "I need to take your vitals."

 _"FUCK OFF!"_ Kurt roared.

"Kurt." Dave calmly said. There was something to Dave's voice that halted Kurt immediately. His eyes never left Dave's as the nurse took his blood pressure and pulse. Hazel eyes and blue eyes met and you'd think there was no one else in the room. Years and years of pain, passion, heartache, health problems, and so, so much love enveloped them.

"120/80 and 85." The nurse stiffly said. "Good, Kurt. I thought we'd have a problem with you today."

"You won't." Dave whispered. She looked at him and saw something was going on between them.

"Excuse me." She said. And with that, she left the room. Dave turned his head to see her leave. And right when that happened, he felt a crushing blow to his chest!

Kurt wrapped him up in his arms! Stunned, Dave fell against him and they held each other in those ugly surroundings. Tears turned to gasps. And then, to anguished cries of years and years of torment. They would've fallen to the floor had they not clasped each other so firmly. They were probably hurting each other with the sudden hug but they so didn't care.

"Oh God, Kurt. I'm soooooo sorrrrryyyyyyy!" Dave wailed. More tears fell from his eyes and Kurt tried to pull back. Of course he was unsuccessful.

"Ohhhhhhh KURRRRRRRT! I've wanted to visit you for sooooooo LONG! I don't know what held me back! I was afraid and stupid and obnoxious! I let others dictate my actions and I didn't want to face you again until I couldn't _STAND IT!_ I can't believe I almost let my pride and fear get in the way of loving you!"

Kurt's own tears matched his own. His fingers dug into Dave's flannel shirt and he could hardly breathe.

"M sry ooooooo!" Kurt tried to say.

Dave held on for a long moment more and then relaxed his grip, but didn't let go. "W-what?!"

"I'm sorry too!"

"What…what for?" Dave asked, wiping his eyes.

Kurt hesitated, stroking Dave's ugly scars. "I…I've been messed up for a while."

"Don't think anything of it, Kurt." He replied, stroking Kurt's hair. "This place was supposed to help you." Then, his voice darkened. "Was _SUPPOSED_ to."

Kurt looked up at him. "I think they have."

"Really?"

Kurt sniffed. "Yeah. I think so."

Dave didn't really believe him but felt so wonderful in Kurt's arms. So he let it go.

"You didn't really think," Kurt heartily said with a smile, "that I'd let my big Russian go, did you?"

Dave laughed. "Hell no!"

Arms were entwined around waists. Smiles were still shared. And eyes met in a glorious way that only true couples could share.

"I knew you'd come back…" Kurt whispered. "I knew it. I knew something happened a while ago." He looked away. "I don't really remember everything but I knew, I KNEW I'd see you again."

Dave smiled and stayed silent.

"And…" Kurt continued. "I don't feel so…agitated like I used to."

Dave looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, sometimes, I just get lost in a fog. It comes and goes…" He looked back up at Dave. "Oh! I saw Quinn. And someone named Azimio. And CARRIE! Oh, I can't wait to get back home and see her!"

Dave's smile fell apart. He stared down at this suddenly happy man who had a slice of hope and Dave would have to dash that. Kurt realized something was wrong and looked at him oddly. But the bigger guy just watched him, sad expression on his face. And just like true couples do, Kurt immediately understood.

"Oh… I see…" Kurt said.

"Kurt, I'm sorry! I know you want to come home but you're-"

"Sick. I know."

Dave couldn't stand this and tightened his grip a little. "But Kurt? You don't seem so sick to me."

Kurt thought for a second and said, "Not now. I mean, sometimes I can feel it coming on. It's like I smell something funny. Or I see some flashing lights. Like those goddamn mortars in Nam."

Dave closed his eyes. He didn't want Kurt to talk anymore.

"Or," Kurt said, "remember that time we saw 'Star Wars'? I don't. And I don't remember Carrie very well at all. I think I saw her not too long ago…"

"You…you did." Dave painfully said. "You did."

They finally separated. Kurt slowly turned and walked back to his bed. Dave didn't move at first and then sat on the edge when Kurt lied down. The smaller boy looked at his cookie and immediately threw it in the basket. Dave didn't understand the significance of it and let it go.

"But Dave?"

He scratched his neck. "Yeah?"

"Will…" Kurt began, also scratching his neck, "will you stay with me? All day?"

Dave breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you really need to ask?"

Kurt smiled and couldn't really take his eyes off him. And thirty-plus years of pain began to finally drain from Dave's body. He no longer felt pain and hadn't felt this comfortable in a long time. They were just like those two young boys in Vietnam who had their whole lives ahead of them and didn't know what the hell to do.

Suddenly, an idea struck Dave. "I still listen to the '1812 Overture'!"

Kurt chuckled. "Of course you do."

Dave didn't say he broke the record. Instead, he suddenly stood up. "Well?!"

Kurt looked at him dumbly. "Well…what?"

Dave's voice softened. "Get up, Kurt."

"What?"

"Get up. Please."

"Oh, alright you stubborn Russian."

Dave laughed and helped Kurt up. They were in their sixties then and they would sometimes need assistance like this. Kurt walked up to him and abruptly, Dave snatched Kurt's hands in his own.

"What are you doin'?" Kurt asked.

"Dance with me."

"W-what?!"

"You heard me, Hummel." Then, his voice dropped velvety. "Remember the '1812 Overture'? Remember how it goes?"

Kurt looked at him like he was the crazy one and then smiled. "Yes. Yes, I do, Mr. Karofsky."

They didn't even have to hum. Instead, they could hear the gorgeous opening strings, the lone French horn player, the stunning swooning of the symphony. Dave and Kurt slowly spun with a newly rekindled love, like eighth graders at their first dance. Kurt rested his head on Dave's chest and they slowly swung in a lazy circle. Arms encircled each other, Dave stepped on Kurt's foot once, and there was no way they could get interrupted.

"I love you…" Dave said, squinting his eyes shut, "soooo muchhhh…"

Kurt tightened his grip. "I love you too."

They slowly rotated there in that hospital room, cocooned in their own little world. Agent Orange couldn't tear them apart. The Vietnam War couldn't either. Despite everything that happened to them, they were so, so happy to be a part of each other's lives once again. And when you finally are happy, a truly happy person, you can't help but feel gratitude for those minute moments in life when you're thankful for your dumb, little life.

Sure, it took time. But they were dancing. They were happy. And they were in love.

.

 **AN: Thank you all for reading!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


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